Shatter My Illusions
by Ebony Secrets
Summary: Hermione learns to disregard preconceptions to truly see the person beneath. Rating may go up in later chapters.
1. First

_Well, this is going to probably be a solo effort on my part. I will most definitely be bouncing most of my ideas off Pia, though, so never fear. Rating may change.  
For Pia's Birthday-Jes_

* * *

"Come back here, Crooks! No, don't…" 

Hermione Granger slipped and nearly fell turning the corner; such were the high speeds she was traveling. Cursing lowly at her cat, which was running further down in the direction of the dungeons, she glanced around quickly to be sure no one was watching her before continuing.

Hermione had been looking up a book, any book, in the library when Crookshanks had appeared.

Puzzled by his sudden appearance and wondering how he could have gotten out of her quarters, she been surprised when he began mewling, something she'd never heard him do until now. Oh, he had bouts of something that resembled the sound, but up until yet it had always been more reminiscent of a Muggle car's muffler than any cat she'd ever heard.

"Crookshanks, be quiet," she'd hushed before checking furtively for the strict librarian to be lurking nearby. Madame Pince was just as eagle-eyed as ever, seemingly undeterred by the lack of students in the buildings to keep the library quiet for.

Hermione was still at Hogwarts despite her recent graduation, and it was definitely not the way she would have chose to spend her summer. To be sure, Hogwarts was full of resources that would prove invaluable to her research in mediwizardry, but she would have relished her stay infinitely more if she'd had a choice in the matter.

Directly before graduation, Professor Snape had returned from what was supposed to be a brief stay with Lucius Malfoy that had spanned nearly a week and a half. While there, he'd learned of a new idea that the Death Eaters were toying with—However, he'd told none but Dumbledore, who'd passed the information on only to a select few teachers. He'd informed Harry, Hermione, and Ron to be alert during their celebrations, and to avoid going anywhere alone. He would give no more information than that, and despite the general caution of the students, graduation occurred without a hitch. It was the day after graduation during which pandemonium reigned.

It was a well-known fact that both Harry and Ron planned on going into Auror training after Hogwarts, but Hermione was still undecided on what she was going to do after Hogwarts. She was torn between the desire to be useful in the war and her own feelings about the taking of another's life. When she considered it carefully, the thought of killing another wizard, regardless of their identity, made her stomach roil. No, she could not follow in her friends' footsteps and become an Auror.

Her appreciation for Muggles was another point on which she had strong opinions; however, the job market in such an area was small. Too few wizards and witches understood or accepted Muggles as competent, and even fewer regarded her, a Muggle-born, as a reliable source of information. Hermione accepted this without anger; she'd spent so long defending herself against the views of the overly opinionated, she'd become numb to any insults based on her heritage. She had no desire to go into a career in Transfiguration, despite McGonagall's urging otherwise.

Hermione had seriously considered Potions, thinking of how much she had enjoyed the art. And an art it was, truly, for the making of a potion was a complex and difficult process. There was much more than measuring ingredients; one had be continually wary of any flaws while brewing, from the substance the cauldron was made out of to the oils that could transfer from hand to ingredient. To get the desired result required an incredible amount of precision, and the lack of attention and care to a potion could result in a spoiled effort, or something much worse. Hermione was especially interested in the creations of new potions. She'd never managed a successful one in the past, but through her efforts had accumulated an excess of knowledge of the basics of materials that were commonly used. She knew what would happen if you attempted to brew a minor truth serum in a gold cauldron, and she knew what effect not adding the thyme to a burn salve would have. More importantly, she understood why these things would happen, something many of her classmates had never deigned to wonder. Her thirst for knowledge could be sated through Potions—there was an endless amount to discover.

However, and the discrepancy always caused Hermione to frown, acceptance to any highly selective potions university would surely require a letter of recommendation, something Hermione knew she was unlikely to receive from her refusal. Figuring it was better to be professor. Nevertheless, she'd asked Snape bravely, and was almost comforted by his emotionless negatively answered than mocked, she'd bowed shortly and left, not particularly disappointed in his expected response.

It was Professor Sprout who discovered a solution to Hermione's problem; stopping her after class one day, Sprout had inquired what Hermione thought of Mediwizardry. Hermione was a bit surprised, but upon giving it serious thought realized what difficulty lay in the subject. Discouraged by its complexity, most of her classmates had given the profession a large berth. However, the mixture of Herbology, Charms, and Potions would both satisfy Hermione's mind and give her something constructive to do until the war was over.

Hermione's delight in her decision was short-lived. On the day after graduation, Dumbledore had pulled her aside to speak to her about how her presence was desired for the summer vacation. Harry and Ron would be enlisting early for their training, Dumbledore had explained, and it would be most beneficial to all parties if Hermione would stay at Hogwarts until her internship with St. Mungo's began in the spring of the following year. Hermione had been outraged, to say the least. Why was she being punished, simply because she'd chosen to follow her own path? When she asked as much, Dumbledore had shaken his head sadly, the gesture aggravating Hermione as it never had before. She would not lack for amusement, he'd offered valiantly, and he would make sure she lived comfortably in her own quarters, not in the dormitory. However, the idea of spending an extra year at Hogwarts did not appeal to Hermione in the slightest, and she was not tempted by the offers of one-on-one teacher conversations or endless Library privileges. She longed to join her peers in wizarding society, to share the knowledge she'd gained with others while receiving more. No, she'd informed Dumbledore, but she'd have to decline his generous offer.

Unfortunately, this was not an option. Dumbledore bluntly stated that if she did not cooperate, the Order would have to consider her actions as counter-productive to their own, and while he assured her that his respect for her would not diminish in the slightest, surely she'd understand if some of the other members became a bit guarded with their comments around her? Hermione recognized the veiled threat immediately, and, wondering what could have caused the normally cheery headmaster to even issue such a threat, resignedly agreed to stay at Hogwarts with the stipulation that she was no longer a student. She would not be treated as one.

Hermione thought back to her conversation with Dumbledore only a week before, remembering his hurried assurance that there was little chance of anyone treating her with anything but utmost consideration. Yet here she was, dashing recklessly through the halls, chasing a cat. It was only lucky that there were no teachers around now!

Remembering the only person who would likely be in the area of the dungeons beside herself, Hermione slowing to a jog, blowing hair off her forehead where it had escaped from her ponytail. The bushy brown mass was no more manageable than it had been when she'd been a student, and it got in the way in the most inopportune moments. Twisting her head to check the hall behind her, she did not see the dark figure before her until it was too late and she ran directly into it.

The first impression she got was of a scent of clovers and a spice she couldn't identify, and she caught a flash of color against a dark cloak as the hands within the sleeves of said cloak came up in a smooth gesture, gently slowing her fall but not stopping it.

Hermione gasped as the figure she was leaning on for balance stepped backward, causing her to tumble to the floor. Her hair was now completely loose, her ponytail holder unwilling to stand up to so much excitement, and with an exasperated sigh Hermione brushed the hair clear of her eyes. As she did this, Crookshanks sauntered nearer to her, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Sparing her cat a scowl, she looked up into the face of Severus Snape, who stood passively looking down on her with one eyebrow raised. He made no motion to help her up.

"Miss Granger. I do believe you have forced me to add uncoordinated and clumsy to your list of general faults. Is there any motive for your unexpected and unwelcome presence in my quarters?"

Hermione scrambled to get her feet under her before responding to Snape's acerbic comment. She grimaced as she looked up, as even when she wasn't sprawled on the ground he still towered over her easily.

"Professor, my cat had wandered down here," Hermione began, fiddling with the edge of her robe as she felt Snape's penetrating gaze. However, she didn't look away from his eyes as they bore into her own. "I'd come down here to retrieve him. Believe me, I had no idea that these were your personal quarters." This last she said wryly, thinking of how it was her own attempted avoidance of the man that had caused her to run into him… literally.

"I don't find your ignorance to be any excuse. Fifty—" here Snape frowned, as if just remembering Hermione could no longer have house points deducted. He stared at her coldly, and she returned his stare, thinking of how little things had changed since the days where he would look down on her while she sat before her cauldron. The only true difference was that now, she didn't have to submit to his authority.

With an abrupt movement of his slender hand, Snape motioned in the direction from which she'd come. "Do not let this happen again." With that parting comment, Snape turned and walked away, his dark cloak blending into the shadows in the dimly lit dungeons.

Hermione breathed a sigh, looking down at the now calm Crookshanks. "You're lucky he didn't catch a good view of you. I doubt he's forgiven you from that incident in the third year."

Picking up the cat, who had resumed his car-like noises, she began walking slowly back to her quarters, which weren't particularly far from her old dormitory. As she walked, her footsteps echoed in the hall around her, and the portraits were all still and silent. Is it really that late? She wondered to herself as she moved. Hearing a rustle down the hallway, Hermione felt an inexplicable flash of fear overtake her, her heart quickening and her breath catching. Fighting an urge to dash to her rooms, she took a deep breath then strode forward, more purposefully than before but keeping herself at a set pace. Cursing the events that caused her to be so frightened of nothing, she shook her head, wishing that Voldemort and the Death Eaters would turn out to be nothing more than a bad dream.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione chose to forego breakfast the following morning in order to avoid Snape. The lack of students made dining at the long staff table relatively pointless; therefore, house elves had brought forth a smaller, circular table that the staff members used for all meals. Normally Hermione enjoyed the conversation that such an enclosed space allowed, but she remembered all too well that it was a possibility that Snape would not have his meal delivered to his room but decide to join the staff. Though it happened rarely, Hermione was unwilling to take the chance this morning, and resolved to venture her rooms only when she was certain it was safe to do so.

Not that staying in her rooms was a problem, of course, she mused as she looked around her lavish quarters. They'd moved her to a set of rooms that she hadn't even known existed. Decorated in neutral colors of a soft lavender and rose pink, the Muggle set-up of the room strangely resembled her home with her parents. The first time she'd seen the couch with its plush throw pillows and swirled patterned, she'd been too choked up to even remember that she was an angry at being forced to stay here against her will. It was almost the same pattern she'd seen for so many years at home, and it induced a bout of nostalgia that lasted for the rest of the day.

Now, looking around her bedchamber at the rose wall hangings, she felt the same nostalgia creep up on her again. She flopped back onto her pillows, unwilling to leave the warmth of her bed. What would she even do today? It had once seemed like there was an interminable amount of knowledge to be gained from Hogwarts, but now Hermione felt as though everything could be put off until another day, as though nothing had any true appeal for her at the moment. She stared blankly up at the ceiling as her mood evolved into a type of melancholy at the idea of repeating this same process of thought everyday for almost a year.

She missed Harry and Ron, missed talking to Ginny at breakfast and between classes. Her mood brightened by a small degree as she remembered that in a few short months Ginny would return for her final year, and she could count on a companion in the evenings and on weekends. Until then, however, she was going to need to find something with which to amuse herself.

With a glance out the window, Hermione determined that she had put off her day long enough. Shaking her head (she would have never let herself waste so much time during the school year), she stood and stretched before taking her clothes for the day and going into her bathroom. She peered in the looking glass in front of her and poking fruitlessly at the dark circles beneath her eyes. They remained from the school year and only just now begun to fade.

Straightening, Hermione admitted to herself that she did occasionally overwork herself. Perhaps if she took this forced sabbatical as a vacation, during which she could study and begin to prepare for her apprenticeship at her own pace, the time would go by much quicker. Humming an optimistic tune, Hermione began to run hot water for her bath. The day was starting to look up.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"I will do nothing of the sort."

"Oh, honestly, Severus," Dumbledore admonished gently as he watched the man in front of him carefully, "You know that Miss Granger has no relatives of wizarding descent to be sure no harm befalls her. If the plan you've told me is indeed in motion, she will need protection of the highest degree."

Severus Snape raised his eyebrows. "And you don't believe that her very presence at Hogwarts ensures her safety far more than a," Severus paused distastefully in the process of choosing his next words, "a _bodyguard_ ever could?"

"I'm not suggesting she needs a guardian. I propose only that you make sure she stays within the perimeter of the building, and keep an eye on her outside of it. That is all."

"That's all?" Snape asked sardonically. "It would be my pleasure. Would her Majesty also like a masseuse in addition to my other duties?

"No. I have followed your foolhardy plans in the past, but I flatly refuse this time," Snape said calmly, leaning back in the chair before Dumbledore's desk that he currently occupied. "Find a new babysitter."

"You know, Severus," Dumbledore said, mimicking Snape's action and leaning back in his chair, "If I didn't know better, I'd think that there was some reason in particular why you are avoiding Miss Granger."

Snape smiled thinly. "It seems your skills of observation have not diminished with age. I find her continual tendency to show off infuriating, and-"

"Reminds me of a student who used to go here," Dumbledore mused. "As I recall, he's now our Potion's master."

"Regardless. I want nothing to do with her." With this Snape stood. "If there is nothing else you require of me?" Without waiting for Dumbledore's response, Snape gave a short bow and left the room.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully, addressing the empty room. "Do you want nothing to do with her, Severus, or do you fear what she could do to you?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione had finally decided the best way to make use of her time. She trudged across the grounds toward the greenhouses, swiping a trickle of sweat out of her eyes as she went.

"Professor Sprout? Professor?"

A thorough search of the unlocked greenhouses proved fruitless, as the Professor was nowhere to be found. Hermione walked along the rows of plants in Greenhouse One, smiling as she easily identified many of the basic herbs and plants she had learned in her first years at Hogwarts. She absently brushed another trickle of sweat, this time from her neck, and thought longingly of comfortable, cool Muggle clothing, rather than hot wizard robes.

"Hermione? Is that you, dear?"

"Oh, Professor Sprout! I was just looking for you," Hermione trailed off. "I'm sorry, did you just come from the castle?"

"Indeed I did," the Herbologist stated, her hair beginning to frizz out much as Hermione's had already done.

"Oh, Professor, I was actually wondering," Here Hermione frowned, "well, hoping, that you would possibly be interested in helping me to further my knowledge of basic Herbology? I'd really wanted to have a bit of a head start going into Mediwizardry."

"Hermione, my dear," Sprout said with a warm smile, "I'm almost positive that you never be without a head start no matter what you choose to do. However, I would be delighted, and in actuality, this works very well."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.

"Well, dear, Albus had asked me if I could offer you a project of sorts here, just so I could keep an eye—"

But Hermione had heard no more. The minute she'd heard of Dumbledore's involvement, her former anger returned in full, and she immediately regretted all kind thoughts she'd had about the man since the summer hols had started. How dare he manipulate her this way? She was a valuable member of the Order, and she was being used! Clenching her teeth into what she hoped passed for a smile, she nodded perfunctorily to Sprout's polite conversation, agreeing to begin her advanced lessons the following morning before taking her leave.

It took all of Hermione's self-control to prevent herself from storming away. She felt an array of emotions, betrayal being first and foremost in her mind. She'd been lied to, by omission if not outright, blackmailed into spending eight months at Hogwarts, and now she was not even granted the small respect of being notified when she was under surveillance!

Well, Hermione allowed, it was possible that Dumbledore had no ulterior motive in asking Sprout to keep an eye on her… possible, but not likely. Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked slowly in the direction of the castle, threatening a certain boorish headmaster under her breath. It was time to pay him a visit.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Dumbledore had called Snape to his office directly after his meeting with Professor Sprout, and there was still no sign of him. Settling back to wait for him, Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile at Snape's vehement refusal. There were deeper meanings attached to everything, he knew, and he had plans for both Miss Granger and Severus Snape. For now, though, those plans would remain known only to him.

"You have need of me?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, wiping the smile of his face. "I just wanted to let you know, I've found another professor accommodating enough to assist the Order in the protection of Miss Granger. You are released from my request.

"I wasn't aware I'd accepted," Snape replied coldly, regarding the headmaster with an expression of distaste. "In fact, I'm near positive that I specifically said that I wanted nothing to do with this."

"Not said!" Dumbledore declared, affronted. "_Implied_."

Snape rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a brown haired whirlwind bursting into Dumbledore's office, apparently not noticing the other occupant in the room.

"Professor Dumbledore! I cannot believe that you would—"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but it was Snape who snapped. "Have the audacity to interrupt a private meeting between the Headmaster and myself?"

Hermione jerked her head around, a momentary look of alarm crossing her face. "Snape?" Hermione said without thinking before quickly correcting herself. "I mean, Professor Snape. I didn't think—"

"Well, that much is clear. It doesn't seem to be as much a strong point for you as others seem to believe."

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "Perhaps we should just see what exactly has upset Miss Granger so."

Snape raised an eyebrow, saying nothing and taking the only seat besides Dumbledore's in the room. Hermione scowled at this lack of common courtesy, ignoring Snape and turning to address the Headmaster.

"Did you ask Professor Sprout to keep an eye on me?"

Dumbledore blinked at Hermione's bluntness. "My dear, you really must understand. I only wanted to be sure that no harm would come to you. You must realize what a precarious position I am in."

Hermione sighed, already regretting her harping at a clearly frazzled Dumbledore. But before she could say anything by way of an apology, a silky voice spoke.

"Apparently Miss Granger does not know when to stop and accept the help she is given. Extraordinary, particularly since it is her own life at risk."

Hermione paled in fury. "I am fully aware that my life is at stake! Everyone's is!"

"Yours more so than others, however," Snape said smoothly. "And to think, everyone seems to think you would be such a great loss to the Order. I must admit, this is one of those few times when I fear I can't seem to understand."

"Severus!" Dumbledore said reproachfully.

"No, Professor Snape," Hermione began, fists clenched in anger at her sides. "I'm no longer a student here. I will not listen to your needlessly vicious attacks on my person without complaint. And I don't need the Headmaster to stand up for me!"

"Despite your claims to adulthood, you conduct yourself in an unquestionably immature manner."

Hermione closed her eyes, counting to ten as she'd been taught as a child. The man was infuriating! But she had to remember, rage was the emotion he wanted to see. The best way to beat him would be at his own game.

Severus said nothing further, watching with mild interest as Hermione's face turned several unappealing shades of scarlet. He had to admit, it was enjoyable to elicit such fervent responses from her with so little effort. In fact, she was really no different from the other students. They had no self-control, and would resort to foolish and childish arguments at the slightest provocation. It was a shame, really, because the rest of the Order held Hermione in a high regard that Severus didn't believe she deserved.

It was because of these less-than-optimistic thoughts that Snape was taken aback when Hermione opened her eyes, smiling and inclining her head. "You're right, Professor. That was unnecessary, and I apologize."

Snape kept his expression carefully schooled, narrowing his eyes.

"Well," Dumbledore said, interrupting the staring match between Snape and the now complacent Hermione. "I must say, as members of the same team, so to speak, you two would benefit from some modicum of mutual respect."

"But, Headmaster—"

"Please, call me Albus," Dumbledore said kindly. "We're on even footing now, and it's only fair."

Hermione furrowed her brow, glancing at Snape unconsciously to see his reaction.

"You will not be calling me by my first name, Miss Granger," Snape said unnecessarily.

Hermione inclined her head once more, the polite motion annoying Severus. He sighed dramatically, turning to face Dumbledore. "Are we finished?"

"Well… Hermione is going to need to expand her knowledge in potions if she wishes to build a solid base for her apprenticeship-"

"No," Snape said immediately.

"She would profit from your-"

"No."

"Extensive-"

"No."

"Knowledge in the subject- and will you allow me to actually finish before you respond?"

Hermione smothered a giggle at the closest thing to annoyance she'd ever seen on Dumbledore, despite the fact that it was her person that Snape was objecting to so strongly.

Snape's eyes flicked to her, then back to the Headmaster. "There was no need to finish, I knew the question. My answer remains the same."

"Then I suppose I'll have to stop asking," Dumbledore said.

"No, Headmaster- I mean, um," Hermione swallowed, "Albus, it's not necessary."

"Hush, Hermione," Dumbledore said without ever removing his eyes from Snape. "Severus, I want you to help Hermione, should she wish it. I'm not asking," Dumbledore softened his voice, "but I would consider it a personal favor."

Snape scowled, glaring alternately at Dumbledore and Hermione. Dumbledore smiled benignly, knowing what Snape would do. After a long minute, Snape sighed dramatically and stood.

"If I'm to endure your infuriating presence later, Miss Granger," he said in a voice heavy with resignation, "than I believe it best to remove myself from it now."

With that, Snape gave a slight bow to Dumbledore and swept out of the room. Hermione sat in the seat he had just vacated, staring in the direction he'd gone. Though she'd not said anything, the truth was that she respected him a great deal, maybe not liked, but respected. She knew he was one of the few people in the school who could understand her academically, and she could identify with him in ways she would never be able to with others, not even her closest friends. Certainly Harry and Ron would never be able to have a logical argument about Potions with her, though Percy might, she thought with a laugh.

So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she didn't even realize the questioning look Dumbledore was giving her until he shook his head and spoke. "Well, Hermione, as productive as this day is turning out to be, I really must attend to some matters with the Ministry… They wish to know why I'm holding a former student hostage," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Oh," Hermione said, flushing a deep red, "I'm sorry if I said anything to offend-"

"Indeed not. Better to say something now than keep it to yourself."

The tone Dumbledore used made Hermione think he was referring to someone beside herself, but then she dismissed the thought as her imagination. "Well, thank you, sir." She stood and left the room, not sure how to feel about the way the afternoon had gone.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

_Review if you are of a mind to do so._


	2. Second

"Good morning, everyone," Hermione greeted the teachers as she walked over to the table in Great Hall. Pulling out a chair between Professors Flitwick and Vector, she immediately began to pile her plate with food as everyone present gave their obligatory replies.

Great Hall was lacking its usual decoration of the house colors. The blank walls looked drab, and the nearly empty room echoed loud voices as well as any cavern. Any outsider would assume that this atmosphere wouldn't be conducive to a comfortable meal, but Hogwarts once more defied expectations. With a circular table in the center of the room, its width large enough only to accommodate the staff members and Hermione, meals seemed more intimate than with hundreds of students.

"So, Hermione," Professor Sprout started as she chose a kipper from the heaping plate before her, "did you have any trouble finding the dittany for your project?"

Hermione swallowed the pumpkin juice she'd been drinking and wiped her mouth on her napkin. "Ah, yes, Greenhouse Three, next to the shrivelfig?"

"That's it."

"A project?" Madam Pince asked. "My dear, didn't you get your fill of those while you were a student?"

The table shared a laugh, causing Hermione to blush. "Well, I'm trying to get a bit ahead for next year. I don't want to fall behind the others in the apprenticeship program."

"Oh, Irma didn't mean anything by it," Flitwick chimed. "Besides, stuck in something like that, I'll be surprised if you won't be bored out of your mind."

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, the apprenticeship won't exactly cater to the level of education you've been exposed to."

"Not that there's anything wrong with their program, of course," Madam Pomfrey cut in at Hermione's frown. "I attended the program and am now quite capable, if I do say so myself."

"And if she wants to be more than capable?"

Hermione resisted the urge to glare at Snape as he swept into the room. The other teachers, however, seemed accustomed to his sardonic manner.

"Surely you aren't suggesting that there is a witch or wizard in the world more competent than our dear Poppy?" Dumbledore said, feigning amazement.

Snape sat at a seat directly across the circular table from Hermione, pausing to study the food before him before beginning to heap eggs onto his plate. "Perish the thought, Albus." He eyed a plate of sausages to his right contemplatively, as if considering whether or not they were worth the stretch.

Not realizing Snape's dilemma, Madam Pomfrey laughed, and then reached for the sausages just before Snape did. No one but Hermione noticed the childish flash of dejection cross his face as his desired treat of meat moved further down the table away from him. She snorted in an effort to keep her laughter under control, and he looked up at her, quirking his eyebrow at her reaction. It was enough to cause Hermione to burst into gales of laughter, and then begin choking on her food. All the other professors at the table looked at her curiously, Flitwick reaching out and patting her on the back gingerly. Snape, however, had to exercise all his self-control not to join her in laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Nevertheless, he couldn't prevent the corners of his mouth from twitching up in a small smirk.

Hermione finally got her breathing under control after downing the glass of water in front of her. Unwilling to believe her and Snape had just had a moment, she avoided his stare as she asked "Wait, what's wrong with their program?"

"Well," Flitwick considered as he chewed slowly, "It's mainly for witches who have a small aptitude for healing, or show a desire to learn how to do so. Mostly hedgewitches and the like."

"Hedgewitches?"

"Witches with a small amount of magical power but a proficiency or interest in Muggle medicine," Pomfrey supplied.

"Are there any other options?" Hermione asked, looking worried.

"Well…" Sprout mused. "There's always the Wetherell University of Medicine in Holyhead, Wales. If you were leaning more toward Potions, however, there is the Potions Lexicon in Karasjok… Oh, that's in Norway, my dear," Sprout added misinterpreting Hermione's grimace at her second statement.

"Severus, isn't that where you went?" Madam Pomfrey asked the man eating quickly beside her. He looked up at her blankly, his mouth full. Therefore, he could not respond immediately to Dumbledore's next statement.

"Both are fine schools, to be sure… But have you all forgotten that an apprenticeship with a Master in any field holds more weight than attending university alone?"

For the second time in as many minutes, someone at the table choked. However, Pomfrey wore a look of delight as she thumped Snape soundly on the back, ignoring his returned glare of loathing.

"No, no, I don't think that this is a good—"

"Nonsense, Hermione! Severus," Dumbledore said with a familiar twinkle, "surely you must agree that a master such as yourself is far more capable than the detached teachers one would normally find?"

Once more, Hermione had to marvel at how eloquently Dumbledore had laid his trap for Snape. He'd given the proud Potions Master only two choices; agree, and risk consenting to taking on an apprentice, or disagree and admit that he was not adept enough as a master to handle a single student.

However, Snape showed no signs of outward discomfort. "The problem is, Albus, that any Master would be over-qualified to teach a mere student. In fact, even after said student had completed university, it would still be asking the Master to lower his or herself to a level much more suited to common Professors than Masters."

The teachers in the room chuckled, and Dumbledore stood, knocking his chair askew as he began clapping. "Bravo, Severus! Not only have you managed to deify yourself, but you've insulted Miss Granger and everyone else in this room in the same breath!"

Snape, though not finished with his breakfast, stood as well. "It's never hard to do." With an abrupt bow by way of any farewell, he turned and walked away.

Hermione watched his receding figure as he left the room, heading in the direction of the dungeons. "Does he ever actually see the light of day?" She wondered, not even realizing she was speaking out loud.

"Ah, don't trouble yourself over him," Sprout said, reaching for a piece of bacon. "Severus is quite functional when left to his own devices, and you can bet he'll continue on just the way he has been."

"He's really happy like that, tucked away from company and alone?"

"Hermione," Flitwick began kindly, "Severus chose that kind of life."

But was it really his choice? Hermione wondered, this time keeping her thoughts to herself. Looking up, she saw Dumbledore looking at her with a knowing half-smile on his face. "Well, I think I'll be going now. Have a pleasant morning, everyone." The Headmaster rose, his eyes focusing once more on Hermione for a brief second before he too left the Hall.

He knows, she realized. He knows Snape's true story, and he knows I'm having my own doubts about Snape's character. The problem is: do I really want to do anything about it?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape made it no further than a step outside the doorway before collapsing against the wall. Yanking up his left sleeve, he flinched as he saw the black mark burning into his skin. The area surrounding it was reddening, and although he was not currently being called, this was clearly an intentional pain.

Snape shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool stone behind him. He could still hear the teachers in the Hall eating their breakfast, could hear their laughter and the clatter of cutlery. He didn't open his eyes as he heard someone approach; the whole of his being was focused on not crying out as the pain intensified.

"Again? So soon?"

"He's not calling me," Snape muttered to Dumbledore between clenched teeth. "I don't know what he's doing… He may have simply been bored for a few minutes and could think of no better way to pass the time."

Dumbledore put one concerned hand on Snape's shoulder, eyes saddening as Snape shook it off with a growl. "You can't keep doing this, Severus."

"Spare me your inane comments, Albus. You can't afford to stop putting me through this," Snape said savagely. Seeing Dumbledore's look of anguish, he took a deep breath and got control of his emotions. "You and I are both aware that the Order can't afford to lose any of its informants. We barely have enough information to establish a defense."

Dumbledore could say nothing as he sadly watched the man before him double forward, a strangled sound escaping. He knew that any help he offered would be pushed away, and there was no one else Snape would allow to help him.

Unable to retain a standing a position, Snape sank slowly to the floor, shaking from the effort of making no noise as he suffered. His head leaned back once more against the stone behind him, his nose thrusting forward from his face like the last stand of a defeated army. His skin, already pale, looked gray and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You can stop staring, Albus. I can't imagine I'm that attractive right now," Snape said with a short, humourless laugh.

"Oh, child," Dumbledore murmured. "I'm so sorry."

Snape said nothing, considering Dumbledore with thoughtful eyes. Dumbledore again felt that those dark eyes were doing so much more than looking at him; they were judging Dumbledore's sincerity, they were testing his loyalty, both to Snape and to the Order. With a short nod, Snape closed his eyes and leaned his head back, effectively ending the conversation but leaving Dumbledore feeling as though Snape had resigned to making himself a human sacrifice.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"No, Miss Granger, you mustn't force this," Professor McGonagall said gently to a red faced Hermione.

Hermione, not knowing what to do with so much free time, had gone to McGonagall and begged to begin Animagus lessons. McGonagall had at first protested; surely Hermione had enough to do as it was?

But in actuality, Hermione had several hours a day to herself, and with nothing to do, she could feel herself getting restless.

So here she stood now, wearing herself out because she couldn't handle not doing anything. It reeked of masochism, even to her.

"No, dear, just relax. You're not going to accomplish anything when you're this tense."

Hermione stopped, breathing heavily despite the lack of physical movement on her part. "All this work and it's only to see if my mind is capable?"

"Well, it's not as if just any wizard can become an Animagus with some concentration and hard work. If it were, there wouldn't be near as few Animagi as there are."

Hermione staggered, and McGonagall instantly sprang forward to help her regain her balance. When Hermione was safely seated, McGonagall pulled a slab of chocolate from a drawer.

"I should have realized you'd be exhausted after that. Unfortunately," McGonagall said as she offered Hermione the chocolate, "I'm not certain you are physically capable of being able to transfigure yourself. If you could, we would have seen some sign by now… I'm sorry, you can't be an Animagus."

"What!" Hermione cried as she dropped her chocolate and shot to her feet. "You can't be serious!"

"Dear, we all have our limits. You've just reached yours."

"No." said Hermione decisively. "No, I'm just not trying hard enough. I'll try harder."

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, but McGonagall gently laid her hand on Hermione's arm, breaking her concentration. "Let it go, Hermione. Just let it go."

"I can't!"

"Hermione, there you are!"

Professor Sprout bustled into the room, nodding to McGonagall. "I've been looking for Hermione for quite some time now and one of the paintings mentioned they'd seen her in your office."

Glancing at Hermione, who appeared close to tears, Sprout spoke in surprise. "Goodness, dear, what happened?"

"I can't do it," Hermione whispered, looking down at the ground.

"Can't do what?" Sprout asked in confusion, looking to McGonagall when Hermione remained silent. "Minerva?"

"Hermione has just learned she will be unable to become an Animagus."

"Oh, is that all?" Sprout said dismissively. "I couldn't either, nor Filius, bless his heart. It never stopped him from trying, even though Albus told him time and again it was no use-"

"Actually, Pomona, I think it's something entirely different," McGonagall said pensively. "There's more to this that you're not telling us, isn't there?"

"Well…" Hermione said, feeling a flush of embarrassment at her overreaction. "I'm just not used to failing, that's all."

"Hermione," Sprout said gently, "you're going to have to accept that you can't do everything. Not even Albus has accomplished everything he's ever tried! But it's not the same as failing, and certainly, no one will fault you for not being an Animagus."

But I know I could, Hermione thought to herself even as she nodded and pasted a smile on her face for Sprout and McGonagall's benefit. I just need to study more, that's all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

After her rather unsettling revelation with McGonagall, Hermione returned to her chambers, throwing herself on the bed. She rolled over to stare at the ceiling, blowing an errant strand of hair away from her mouth.

Oh, she knew she wasn't capable of everything. She'd never have the easy social skills required to prevent her from sounding pompous and haughty. She'd never make the Qudditch team, or even be adequate in not falling off her broomstick. And, however much it bothered her, she'd probably never be accepted to a top Potions school without her professor's recommendation.

But learning had always been the one constant in her life. She caught on to new things quickly, retained her interest long enough to thoroughly research the subject, and then filed away information for later use, rarely forgetting anything important. Hermione had always had exceptional powers of memory and concentration, and despite all her faults, she clung to these as constants to set her apart from all others. But now…

She couldn't just give up on this. If she did, it would be admitting something she didn't want to ever do: there was nothing she was truly great at.

She had nothing to fall back on if she couldn't rely on her superior intelligence. She knew this, had known it for years. It was because of this undeniable fact that she never missed a chance to learn, to better herself in the only way she knew how.

Sitting up suddenly, Hermione went over to her dresser, reaching into a drawer that, rather than being filled with clothes, was stuffed with random photos and papers.

"Oh, where are you…" Hermione muttered as she tossed the papers haphazardly around. Empty-handed, she pushed the drawer closed and then focused on a chest in the corner of the room.

Knocking the lid back against the wall with a satisfying thump, Hermione began to rummage through this as well.

Finally, her hand closed around something, and with a triumphant exclamation she pulled it free and examined the object she now held.

A journal. Muggle-made, so Hermione knew that there were no extraordinary beings imprisoned inside, but mostly unremarkable. Sitting back on her heels, she flipped through the blank pages, watching the cream coloured pages thoughtfully.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Severus Snape hadn't been well recently. Though his meetings with the Dark Lord, as he was required to call him, had become less frequent, the pain of the Dark Mark increased steadily. It was never any less than a dull ache these days, and sometimes the pain would skyrocket until he was sure he would pass out.

Not to mention the dreams, he thought with a scowl. For weeks now, they had been a constant interruption to his meager hours of sleep. Always the same, he mused. Always the night he was first initiated into the Death Eaters.

But these weren't things he had any intention of sharing. He had never been the type of person who felt the need to confide in anyone, particularly those he deemed lesser than himself.

It was unfortunate that the majority of the wizarding world occupied this category.

In any case, Snape had grown accustomed to solitude, and so he was less than pleased when Dumbledore imparted the knowledge that Remus Lupin would arriving at Hogwarts within a fortnight, even less so when Sirius Black was included in this figure.

In an effort to have everything necessary to avoid all trips out of the sanctuary of his quarters, Snape was on his way to the Library. The Dark Lord had requested he find information on an anodyne but rare plant, and Dumbledore had insisted he find said information. Dumbledore had hoped that when Voldemort had more information about the plant, he would reveal what he planned to use it for.

Snape briefly considered simply asking Pomona Sprout; however, this would definitely involve an amount of conversation he wasn't about to participate in. No, better to do it alone.

Entering the library, he could barely prevent his lip from curling when he saw Hermione sitting at a desk near the door. She was not reading as he thought she would be, however; there was a pen in her hand and she was chewing thoughtfully on it as she wrote in a black book before her. Disregarding her, he went directly to the shelves that he knew housed the book he needed, frowning when he saw that they were near to empty. Raising his eyes to the ceiling as if it would help him, he resigned himself to having at least one unwanted conversation in the day.

"Irma," he said to the librarian, not troubling with a greeting. "I have need of a certain Herbology book-"

The librarian raised her eyebrows and motioned to Hermione, who was now scribbling feverishly.

Snape said nothing, though he inwardly blanched. With a quick nod to Madam Pince, who retired to her office, he strode over to Hermione.

Despite the fact that he'd made no effort to disguise his approach, he still caused her to jump and drop her quill when he cleared his throat directly beside her.

Snape watched for a moment with amusement as she tried fruitlessly to blot away the ink stains her quill had caused. "Miss Granger, it is one thing to do yourself bodily harm. However, I do think people would be a great deal more upset if they found you were defacing school property with your clumsiness."

Hermione scowled before pulling out her wand and muttering a quick cleaning spell over the table where the ink had spilled. "If you had seen fit to announce your presence, rather than sneaking up on me-"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was preoccupied," she said defensively.

"No more so than usual, I'm certain." Snape glanced at the book where it had fell open, reading a few sentences of Hermione's small, cramped handwriting.

_-refined really was the only way to describe how she'd looked, just then. Like the most accepting of people, unafraid of any harm to her person. It seemed as though she almost welcomed the respite it could give her. The worst part of the whole thing was the fact that the words seemed to be ingrained in his skull. He could recite everything she had said -- verbatim. The way she'd stared up at him, unafraid-_

Hermione snatched the book up, shutting it with a snap. "That's private."

"Being of such a quality as it is, it should remain so."

Far from being offended, Hermione only nodded pensively. "I had no plan to show it to anyone."

Snape was caught between his curiosity and his desire to remain aloof. As it always had, however, his curiosity won out in the end.

"Why bother wasting ink in such a way, then? Surely mastery of something useful would be more prudent?"

"Something flashy like Potions, you mean?" Hermione smiled faintly, a faraway look in her eyes. "Writing is an incredible pastime. There are hundreds of thousands of words in the English language, and they mean nothing until they are strung together. But truly, it's the person who can put them together to elicit a true emotional response that deserves credit of being a master of language."

Snape dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. "As expected, an overly-romantic portrayal. How very Gryffindor of you."

At this, Hermione focused on Snape and frowned. "You asked."

"And I will remember not to do so in the future. Now, I have need of a certain Herbology book, and I have been notified that it is in your possession."

Hermione blinked at how quickly Snape had switched conversation threads. "Which?"

"One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."

"I'll send a house elf over with it as soon as I return to my room, then," Hermione said, picking up her quill. She'd barely touched it to the paper before she looked up again to see the look on Snape's face. "Or I'll return to my room immediately?" she questioned.

"Very good, Miss Granger," Snape said smoothly before sweeping out of the room.

"You're welcome," Hermione said to no one in particular, a half-smile creeping across her face.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You wanted to see me, Minerva?"

McGonagall stood before the fire in her office, giving the face floating there a look of chagrin.

"Would it hurt to appear in person?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said wisely, "but that would detract from the drama, no?"

McGonagall sighed. "Albus, I'm worried about Hermione. Was it really fair to leave her no choice but to stay here? She'd just graduated, was about to take her place in the world…"

All the humour had left Dumbledore's face as he replied, "I'm keeping her here so that there will be a world for her to take a place in. You know as well as I do that if this plan is existent, there is more at stake than one witch's life, however brilliant she may be."

"Albus!"

"Don't mistake this for my being indifferent to Hermione's fate," Dumbledore said gently. "But I have to consider more than her-"

"We."

"Pardon?"

"You said 'I'," McGonagall said slowly. "But it is the Order that decides as a group what the next action to take is. Not just you."

Dumbledore smiled, but it was without any real warmth. "Indeed."

Uncomfortable with the whole situation, McGonagall shifted. "Well, then, I'm sorry for troubling you, Albus. But," she entreated, "perhaps explaining the situation to Hermione would be easier than trying to convince her without any real reasons?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore allowed. "Perhaps it would. But for the moment, she is to know nothing about it."

McGonagall bristled at what Dumbledore's tone implied. "I won't say I understand, because I don't. But I will say nothing without your consent."

"Good. Now then," Dumbledore said with an actual smile, "have you noticed how jumpy Severus has been lately?"

McGonagall shook her head, smiling wryly. "You're as bad as a gossiping fifth year."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione had set aside her journal, having finished the first few pages of what she hoped would serve as a stress and boredom reliever for the remainder of her stay at Hogwarts. Her appreciation of writing was anything but artificial; rather, she found it amazing how powerful words could be.

Snape must harbor the same feelings, she mused in the quiet of her chambers. She was at her desk, organizing the Herbology texts she had checked out of the library. The lack of the text Snape needed had made no dent in her formidable collection, which she now perused thoughtfully. However, it was only a matter of time before her mind returned to her encounter with Snape earlier.

Surely someone who used words to wound as often as Snape did would understand her preoccupation with language? He depended on his wit and tongue more than any brute force, and it had proven to be highly effective. In fact, though Hermione disagreed with the ends Snape wished to achieve, she had to admire his skill. The understated double meanings, the barely disguised insults, the backhanded compliments… any conversation with Severus Snape was like an exercise in subtlety.

Hermione shook her head, mentally scolding herself for allowing her mind to wander. Professor Sprout would already be in a state of deep shock that Hermione had not devoted every spare minute of her time to completing this project, and Hermione could only hope that this shock would not extend to disappointment.

She worked diligently for the next several hours, pausing only to reach for a new book. There was one plant that she was unable to find, the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, and while Sprout had not suggested she research it specifically, Hermione thought its properties might be potent enough to replace other, more rare potions ingredients.

It was likely in the book Snape had requested, Hermione thought irritably. Well, she wouldn't be going back for that anytime soon, and she had checked all the other books in the Herbology section…

Of course! Now that she was no longer a student, she would be allowed in the Restricted Section, or so she assumed. For a moment, she pondered whether to ask a teacher, just to be sure, but the second's thought reminded of her of her school years at Hogwarts. Never had she unreservedly broke Hogwarts rules; there was always an underlying guilt that what she, Ron, and Harry were doing was wrong. But it didn't matter anymore, because now that she had graduate she was a guest in Hogwarts. And, to her knowledge, guests were not denied access to the Restricted Section.

And so, for the second time that day, Hermione went to the Library.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Madam Pince?" Hermione called softly. Hearing no one, she walked to the back of the library, faltering as she saw the roped off barriers that had always prevented her from exploring the Restricted Section. Hermione had the strong suspicion that the flimsy-looking ropes were magically enhanced to prevent students from sneaking into the Restricted Section, and it occurred to her that this might extend to anyone who did not belong there. Well, she would soon find out.

Reaching forward with a shaky hand, she unclipped the rope from one end of the pole cautiously, waiting for an alarm to sound or something similar. However, there was nothing but the sound of her quickened breath.

Shaking her head and chuckling at her foolishness, she stepped into the Restricted Section, glancing around at the room. It was considerably smaller than she had supposed it would be, but the shelves here were much different than the regular library. She noticed that some books, rather than being placed with others, were set in small, glass chambers. Others were in what looked to be cages, and the sight was almost absurd enough to send Hermione into a fit of nervous giggles.

She walked slowly through the room, some books catching her interest though her fear of the unknown prevented her from picking any up. Faced with all this knowledge, Hermione felt a thrill, but it also struck her with terror. She could learn so much here, find out more than she was ever intended to know, but would this be a bad thing?

Hermione stopped dead as she stared at the title of the tattered book before her. Becoming Animagi.

She could do it, she was certain. She could take the book, study it, and perhaps show McGonagall that she was capable, more than capable…

Before her sensible side gave her all the reasons why what she was doing was wrong, Hermione grabbed the book and tucked it under her arm. With a new sense of purpose, she walked forward, seeing books with an assortment of rather noxious looking plants on the covers.

Ah, there it was. Reaching for the book in front of her, Hermione felt a sudden twisting in her gut as she picked it up. Disregarding it as nerves, Hermione opened the book to check the index for her plant when several things happened at once.

Fawkes woke from a long slumber with a screech, startling Dumbledore. In the dungeons, Snape gasped as the Dark Mark on his arm flared to life again. Hogwarts' ghosts later testified that they felt the most unearthly cold settle over the castle, the first true feelings they'd had in years.

And alone in the Restricted Section, Hermione Granger crumpled to the ground.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Snape winced, rubbing his arm as the pain subsided. So now Voldemort called him. What a fantastic way to end the day. Well, he couldn't very well go back without the information Voldemort had requested, and the plant was not listed in the book he'd thought it would be in.

Funny, he thought, he'd been so sure that it was there…

All this excitement must be taking a toll on him.

The book would be found in the Restricted Section, he was sure. Sighing, he grabbed his wand and prepared to make a quick trip to the Library before going to see He-Who-Would-Not-Bloody-Die.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When Severus Snape first entered the Library, all he noticed was the eerie silence. The librarian who normally was sweeping the room and picking up randomly placed books at this time was nowhere to be seen. Just in case, he slipped his wand into easy reach.

Walking back to the Restricted Section, he started when he saw the normally closed ropes hanging freely, swaying in an unseen breeze. Few teachers had purpose for going into the Restricted Section, and none would be there this late.

Now his wand was out, and he warily entered the dimly lit room. However, there seemed to be nothing out of place.

Snape didn't see Hermione until he almost tripped over her, and even then he had no idea wat the huddle dark mass on the ground was. "Lumos."

Snape couldn't stop his eyes from widening in surprise as they took in the picture of the young woman sprawled on the ground before him, her bushy hair unmistakable.

"Miss Granger?" Snape said, kneeling next to her form. "Miss Granger? Can you hear me?"

He pulled Hermione's shoulders and upper body into his lap, testing for her pulse and finding the faint beating more reassuring than he could explain.

Looking into her face however, Snape frowned. Her eyes were wide open, though blank, and her mouth moved soundlessly.  
"Miss Granger, do you know who I am?"

This seemed to be the magic question. Though her eyes never focused, Hermione began to murmur soft phrases, in such a low tone that Snape had to lean close to her lips just to hear.

"Of course I know who, who-- Mr. Weasley? No, that can't be, you're not supposed to be here, Harry and Ron aren't here, and no, I don't think it's fair to Ginny to talk about her like that-"

Snape leaned back, blinking at the string of gibberish that Hermione had just entered. It was then he noticed the two books lying beside her, Becoming Animagi, and the very book he'd come up here to find-

Which was currently emitting the soft blue glow of a cursed object.

With an uncharacteristic curse, Snape kicked the book viciously away before using his wand to send out the emergency signal that all teachers knew. He raised his wand before remembering any magic could trigger the curse again, and hefted Hermione in his arms, setting out quickly for the Hospital Wing.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Good god, Severus, did you carry her all the way down here?"

Most of the teachers currently at the school were congregated in the Hospital Wing already as Snape staggered in, exhausted from his exertion, and dumped Hermione unceremoniously on the nearest bed.

"She's been cursed," he said between gulps of air. "Don't use any magic on her."

Dumbledore paled, and McGonagall ran forward.

"Oh, she'll be safe here, Albus?" McGonagall asked viciously. Snape had never heard McGonagall take such a sarcastic tone with Dumbledore before.

Meanwhile, Pomfrey had been checking Hermione over without using the magic the other wizards depended on so heavily. She shook her head, bewildered. "Everything's normal, and there's not a scratch on her. I don't think anything's wrong."

Snape, meanwhile, had recovered his breath enough to give his shortened version of the situation to Dumbledore and then walk unsteadily to Hermione's bedside. "Who are all of these people, Miss Granger?"

Again, Hermione couldn't seem to focus her eyes, and they began to roll wildly. "Um… Professor? No, I was just talking to Seamus, and I know for a fact that he would purposely or accidentally never skip Transfiguration. Well, yes, Lavender might try at Honeydukes, but I doubt she'd manage to convince him to miss something as important as predictions."

Professor Sprout gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"You see," said Snape grimly, "there is something very wrong indeed."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, finally speaking. "See if you can figure out what this is. Everyone else besides Minerva and Pomona, get to the Library and see if anything there is amiss. Do not touch that book."

As the teachers skittered away to do as asked, Severus Snape looked down at the girl who, hours before, had argued with him over a simple hobby. Shaking his head, he began to go over the curses he knew mentally while inspecting Hermione, Voldemort's call forgotten.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"What have you come up with, Severus," Dumbledore asked wearily several minutes later.

"As far as I can tell, when she opened the book the curse must have activated. Whom or what put it there I couldn't say."

Snape paused, looking down at Hermione, who was looking back up at him in an unsettling way.

"It seems like Miss Granger is suffering a combination of several ailments, somehow interwoven to target her specifically."

"How so?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"The loss of control of motor function is usually associated with the Impediment Jinx, but her ramblings are more reminiscent of a Confundus Charm. However, I suspect that what she does say is being influenced somehow, and I sense an enormous amount of power over her that the Impediment Jinx and Confundus Charm alone could never accomplish. I presume that the backing curse is an Unforgivable, most likely to Imperius."

At this, McGonagall and Sprout, the only other two present in the room, began to mutter in agitation.

"Inside our very walls-"

"But how is it possible-"

"Please, ladies," Dumbledore said. "Severus, when you first found her, was she any more, ah, coherent than she is now?"

Snape frowned. "As I recall, she was speaking in complete sentences, but they were completely irrelevant to the question I'd posed."

Dumbledore sat with a pensive stare on his face, while McGonagall and Sprout continued to fret. Snape said nothing, wondering how no one had warned Miss Granger of the dangers of the Restricted Section. Now they had yet another problem with no solution, but this one could have been prevented.

"Severus," Dumbledore said suddenly. "How long would this curse have stayed on the book?"

"You'd have to ask Filius to be certain. I can only speculate-"

"Then do that."

"A few hours. After that, it's power would have begun to deteriorate and it would have been rendered less effective, if not entirely useless."

"And which book is it?"

"Oh, just an unnamed Herbology text," Sprout said dismissively. "I doubt anyone would have had much use for it, and I can't understand why Hermione would want it-"

"I needed it," Snape said slowly. "The plant I was looking for wasn't where I thought it was."

Dumbledore looked up at Snape's bland comment. "Is that the plant-?"

"Yes."

Alright," Dumbledore said decisively. "I'm going to take a look at the book myself, and then I will return as soon as I have any information. Severus, try to speak to Hermione again; you seem to have the best luck with it."

When Snape opened his mouth, Dumbledore cut him off. "I'm not asking you. Just do it. Minerva, you and Pomona stand watch outside the Wing. No one gets in besides Poppy and myself."

The two witches nodded and left the room. Dumbledore followed closely behind them, leaving Snape only a few parting words. "Curious, how the very book you needed was the cursed one…"

Snape scowled at Dumbledore's receding back, the idea that it was he who the curse was intended for having already occurred to him.

Turning back to Hermione, he averted his eyes from her unfocused gaze. "Miss Granger, can you hear me?"

"Of course."

Surprised at such a lucid answer. Snape snapped his head up. "And you know who I am?"

Hermione smiled softly. "You're Professor Snape, I know. But the problem is I don't remember what- oh, wait, it'll come back to me. No, no, wait!" she repeated forcefully as he turned his head away.

"I can't think," Hermione implored, reaching out and grabbing Snape's wrist.

Snape eyebrows shot up as he resisted the urge to wrench his arm out of her grasp. Swallowing, he wondered who would have been able to create and place such a curse in Hogwarts.

"I can't think, she repeated, distress in her eyes. "Wait, are you here, or not? I saw Harry… I saw his parents…"

It was the last comprehensible thing Hermione said for many minutes. She babbled inanely to Snape, who felt the oddest sense of irony as he listened to the girl who had extolled the fluency of language drivel like a toddler.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_What could it be that Hermione was writing? Hmm… Points to you if you can figure it out. I wish I could hug all of my lovely reviewers, but seeing as I don't know them all, it could lead to a potentially awkward moment… Regardless, thank you all so much._

_Review if you are of a mind to do so._


	3. Third

"We must find a way to fix this," Sprout fretted, kicking her feet agitatedly. "Hermione is invaluable to-"

"The Order, Pomona, we know," Dumbledore said tiredly. "However, it is apparent that Voldemort knows this also."

Sprout flinched at the usage of his name, but didn't say anything further. The staff members in the Order had convened in Madam Pomfrey's office, Pomfrey stating she wanted to keep a close eye on Hermione throughout the meeting.

"But we weren't expecting an attack from this angle," Dumbledore murmured. "Severus, are you certain that Voldemort said nothing of this to you?"

Snape gave Dumbledore a cold look from where he leaned against the wall. "I wouldn't forget if he had."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then we have to assume that this curse was not intended for Hermione to receive."

"What do you mean, Albus?" McGonagall asked with a perplexed expression.

Dumbledore glanced quickly at Snape before speaking. "The book Hermione was holding was, coincidentally, the exact book Severus had been in the Library to retrieve."

There was a general murmuring among the staff before Sprout spoke up. "I don't understand. The most rare plant that I'd asked Hermione to research could be found in 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi. What was she doing in the Restricted Section?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "The _mimbulus mimbletonia_?"

"Why, yes, I believe that's the one."

"The exact plant I needed," Snape said pensively, ignoring Sprout's gasp. "However, I'd been rather sure it was in 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi as well, and if it was, it has been removed."

"Where is the cursed book now?" Flitwick asked worriedly.

"Well, we could hardly check it," Snape snapped. "But it has been confiscated and removed to a place where no one else will run into it."

"This is most worrisome," Dumbledore said softly. "And Severus, you said that you were called at the time this… tragedy, took place?"

Snape nodded shortly.

"Then we must assume that this curse was intended for you. You have been discovered, my boy," Dumbledore said, shaking his head slowly. "You mustn't go back again."

An unreadable emotion crossed Snape's face, and he turned quickly, facing the shadows so none could see him.

"But Albus," McGonagall said, "if they had discovered Severus, why go through all the trouble of cursing him? Why not just kill him outright?"

"And that's why we need to figure out what exactly this curse is meant to accomplish. Severus?"

Snape looked up, now completely composed.

"I'll need you and Filius to work together to see if you can figure out what this is. You're as much as an expert of the Dark Arts as we have right now."

Snape inclined his head, glancing at Flitwick, who seemed to be in a state of shock. All the teachers seemed to be too dazed to say anything, understandably. These were incredible new developments.

"Oh, Albus," Flitwick mumbled after a short while. "We've lost our best informant in this war, and the life of one of our own is clearly in danger."

Snape's head snapped to Flitwick, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore glanced at Snape, noting the expression of fury on Snape's face. "Filius, just by being our informant, Severus's life was constantly at risk-"

"No, Albus," Snape said in a strangely detached tone of voice. "Filius is right. Now," Snape said, turning his blank gaze on Flitwick and causing him to flinch, "the life of someone truly important to the order is at stake."

"Severus-"

Snape got up and walked out of the room, pausing at the door to look back in disdain at Flitwick before leaving.

"Oh, Filius," Sprout breathed softly while Flitwick hung his head.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape went no further than the Hospital Wing before sitting on an empty bed and staring out the window there, disgusted at no one and everyone.

Oh, he knew he'd never be the hero; he never had wanted to be. He knew that no one would think to ask him about how he felt about now being Voldemort's target, or about having the freedom to not have to risk his life every time his arm burned. He even knew that no one truly appreciated the fact that he didn't like what he had to do, that it scared the hell out of him, but he did it anyway, because he certainly didn't deserve any better. No, he knew all of this, and he knew beyond a doubt that no one would care, or even pretend to.

But sometimes, he thought bitterly, it might be nice to be wrong about something.

"Professor?"

Snape turned to face Hermione Granger, who was looking at him curiously. Her face was covered in sweat, her hair matted with it.

She gestured weakly, and Snape strode over to stand beside her. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, feeling foolish talking to a girl who likely had no idea what he was saying.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered, every word sounding forced.

Snape blinked, not expecting a lucid answer. "You've been cursed."

"With what?"

"We're not entirely certain right now."

Hermione slumped back onto her pillows, looking down dejectedly. "You can't fix this… I don't know how long I can keep it away…"

"Keep what away, Miss Granger?" Snape said sharply.

She said nothing, her eyes drifting shut. After a long moment, she opened them again. "You're still here. That means you were here before, so I'm not dreaming this time."

Watching her bloodshot eyes, Snape felt as though there was something that he was missing, something inexplicably simple…

"Of course!" he said aloud, though he was speaking to himself. "Miss Granger, would you let me into your mind?"

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment, making him feel foolish for even asking. The words sounded stupid to his own ears, and added to that the fact that the girl he was talking to had no real choice in the matter anyway… He was about to just turn and leave the room when Hermione chuckled dryly. "Sure, why not? Maybe you can help me find myself. Good luck getting out, though…"

Ignoring her cryptic words, Snape held her head between his hands to steady it, staring deeply into her eyes. She smiled, and he felt himself fall headlong into her thoughts.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Snape had used his skills as a Legilimens more times than he could count. He was used to the sensation of being out of touch with his own body as he became accustomed to whomever's mind he was currently occupying. However, he felt something entirely different as he entered Hermione's mind, beyond the strong force that seemed to be attempting to push him out.

There was no one thought in her head. Instead, a dizzying amount of ideas were flashing through at incredible speeds. Even as an outsider, he felt confused, and he wondered how Hermione had managed to speak coherently at all. It was like a Pensieve had been upended over her mind, and different thoughts faded in and out of consciousness at an alarming rate. Above the speaking in the memories, he thought he heard a faint call of his name.

"Miss Granger?" he spoke uncertainly.

In response, several visuals surfaced in front of him. Some of him teaching, others of him as he sneered at Hermione and her friends. There were a few memories she had apparently gained without his knowledge; of him grading papers in class, or looking bored at Qudditch game. However, instead of the clear images he usually saw when using Legilimency, they were choppy and broken. In some, the background was obviously incorrect, and others were noticeably lacking in detail.

The most disturbing thing about the situation was the blue fog that was present in all of Hermione's memories. It obscured faces and blurred boundaries until the scene was barely recognizable.

Snape focused on the one thing he wanted to do, which was somehow speak to Hermione. However, all he got were random memories, as if someone had set them to rotate in and out of her focus.

"Professor Snape? Please…"

Again, the words he heard were faint, and he was completely baffled. Where was Hermione in this mess that was her mind?

Ah. Pushing back all other thoughts and emotions with a sheer force of will, Snape concentrated solely on one, bringing it to the foreground.

"Miss Granger, can you hear me?"

"Yes." The voice was getting closer now.

With a final effort, Snape shoved away all background noise until he was left only with a replica of Hermione, who was currently staring at him in awe.

"You did it, you fixed it-"

"Miss Granger," Snape interrupted tersely, "I have done nothing of permanence."

Hermione sagged visibly. "Then I'm still…"

"Ill," Snape supplied. "Yes, you are. Bu I need you to- Oh…"

Hermione had begun to bawl, sobbing and grabbing her head. Snape had never seen her cry in front of him before, and, uncomfortable, he averted his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Hermione managed to gasp out, "but since you've been here, I can finally think again, and when you leave…"

Snape cleared his throat. "Indeed. Do you mean to say you couldn't think before?"

Hermione looked vaguely queasy, and Snape hurriedly placated her in the only way he knew she'd understand. "Miss Granger, treat this an experiment, for the moment. Nothing more."

Hermione nodded, drying her eyes and taking deep breaths until she was calm once more. "Alright. I'm okay. I could think," Hermione said, "but I couldn't keep hold of my thoughts. It's like every time I grasped any idea, it floated away. The more I tried to remember something, the worse it got, to the point where I didn't remember most of my own memories- Oh, I'm not making sense, am I?" she cried.

Snape frowned. "I believe I understand what you mean… You do understand, of course, that you did speak to us earlier."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't really remember anything. I know I talked to you, but I barely remember that, and I have no clue what we talked about," Hermione finished on a gasp, and suddenly her image before him flickered.

Snape checked his control quickly; wavering, but no more so than it had been all along. "Miss Granger, what happened?"

"I don't know," Hermione said shakily. "It's like someone else is briefly taking control, making me see things that I've never done… Or maybe I have done them, and just don't remember…" Hermione trailed off and then looked at Snape in horror. "What's happening to me, Professor?"

Snape hesitated. Albus may or may not want her to know, but surely she had the right?

"Tell me!"

"Miss Granger, it is my belief that you are suffering from a mixture of several very powerful curses. The Confundus Charm, to keep you in a state of confusion, the Impediment Jinx, to impede your memories and thoughts, and the Imperius, which will take control when your mind is sufficiently weakened." Snape paused, watching Hermione shake her head in bewilderment.

"No, no, I don't believe you! It's never been done, it can't happen- oh, but you wouldn't lie to me about something that serious…"

"How can you be sure?" Snape asked bluntly. "If your memories are faulty, what makes you believe that I'm not the type of person to do that?"

"I didn't say all of my memories were faulty," Hermione said shortly.

"Miss Granger," Snape said suddenly, breaking the silence that had followed her words. "I must apologize. It appears this curse was likely aimed at me."

Snape waited for the inevitable anger, and was not disappointed as it spread over Hermione's face. "Who did this?" she asked in a low voice.

"To all appearances, the Dark Lord seems to be behind it in some way."

"And you're apologizing for him!"

Snape felt an acute sense of shock at her sudden vehemence. "I beg your pardon?"

"As well you should!" Hermione thundered. "Assuming I should be angry because you didn't suffer instead of me…

"Wait," Hermione said, eyes widening in fear. "Were you discovered?"

"I do believe so," Snape said, still surprised.

"Oh no, what if they send someone to the castle to kill you now that this curse didn't get the right person?"

Snape stared at Hermione. "Do you not understand the gravity of this situation? Not only are you under a curse which no one at Hogwarts knows how break, but now the Order has lost an informant-"

"Hogwash," Hermione said dismissively. "You're right in front of me… Well, not exactly, but you understand what I mean. Now, we just need to find a way to keep you that way-"

"Miss Granger! Perhaps if you showed more concern over your own actions, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"No," she said gently. "We would. We'd be even worse off, because then you would be cursed instead of me. And if that happened," Hermione continued, despite Snape's multiple attempts at speech, "who would figure out a way to remove the curse?"

Snape stared incredulously at the girl in front of him. That she seemed to care what happened to him, that she had such faith in his abilities shocked him as nothing had in years.

"You're our best chance at finding a way to remove this thing," said Hermione softly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Don't place trust in people foolishly, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "I don't."

Snape felt his weak control over Hermione's mind trembling. "Miss Granger, I'm afraid that very soon I will have to go-"

"No!"

"I'll do everything I can," Snape said as he observed the panicked look in he eyes. "Everyone will, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, her eyes welling up once more. Her image began to flicker once more.

"You must fight it, Miss Granger," Snape said firmly. "You mustn't give in."

"I won't," said Hermione resolutely. She moved closer to him, raising her hand to his face and causing him to flinch away from her impending touch, though he stayed where he was. "Thank you," she whispered softly, "Severus."

Just as her hand would have made contact with the side of his face, Snape felt his influence over her mind break, and he was thrust back into his own mind.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Did you figure anything out, Filius?"

Flitwick shook his head. "Maybe if Severus were here to help, but-"

"Oh no, you don't," Sprout scolded. "You drove him away yourself!"

"I know," Flitwick said heavily. "It was foolish of me, and I know that. But, you know, I didn't mean it exactly the way he took it."

Sprout shook her head. "If Albus or Minerva were here right now, you'd really be in for it."

Flitwick paced Pomfrey's office, disregarding the seats despite the fact that none were taken save Sprout's. "Severus just- He twists everything around until he garners the meaning he wants to hear from people-"

"Filius!" Sprout exclaimed. "How could you say such a thing, knowing what that poor boy has been through?"

"Aren't I right, though?" the normally even-tempered Flitwick demanded.

Sprout cast him one cold stare before exiting out through the doors opposite the hall, to the Hospital Wing. "And don't you dare follow me," Sprout hissed as Flitwick moved in her direction. "I don't like who you are right now."

Sprout had barely stepped into the Wing when the sight before her made her shut the door quickly to block Flitwick's view. Snape was collapsed next to Hermione on the bed, Hermione's eyes open and looking at him with something resembling… adoration?

Sprout stood, peering at Severus. She was almost eye level with him, and it surprised her when he opened one eye, staring straight at her.

"Oh, Severus, I didn't mean to disturb-"

"I heard you talking to Filius," he said simply, not moving from his current position.

When he said nothing further, Sprout began to gesture indignantly. "I know you don't need people fighting your battles for you, but he was stressed, and was saying things that he didn't truly mean."

Snape still hadn't moved, but now he nodded his head, one side of his mouth curving up in a half-smile.

Sprout was floored. She'd never seen the impassive man smile before, and while this wasn't an all out grin, she felt it was probably the closest he'd come in a while.

"Um," she started, unwilling to ruin the moment, but having issues that needed to be addressed. "Why are you-"

"Because," he responded in an amused tone of voice, "I am too weak to stand up."

"Oh," Sprout said weakly, surprised at the entire change in Snape's demeanor. So it took extreme fatigue to bring a semblance of humanity to him, she noted to herself wryly. "Well, in that case, I suppose it's alright."

Snape raised his eyebrow, managing to look condescending even from his current horizontal position. "I attempted to perform Legilimency on Miss Granger."

"Oh? What happened?" Sprout asked eagerly. "Did it work?"

"Oh, it worked. We need to find a way to remove this curse, immediately."

Sprout grimaced. "What's going to happen to Hermione if we don't?"

"It is likely Miss Granger, in addition to losing all her current memories, will become a tool of the Dark Lord; a very powerful tool, I daresay, with her knowledge and abilities."

Sprout sagged. Was there nothing that wouldn't go wrong today? Surprising even herself, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"You know, you just admitted Hermione was intelligent."

Snape opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again. Once more, Sprout marveled. First that smile, and now he was speechless? Of course, she reminded herself, it did take a state of exhaustion and hopelessness to bring him to this point.

"It's alright," she said, giving him a small smile. "Besides, Miss Granger is looking at you right now as if you'd just moved the heavens."

"Damn close," Snape muttered before straining his neck to look up. "Actually, I believe that could be because she is mentally unstable. Well, more so than usual, anyway."

Sprout shook her head. "Come on, I'll help you to the other bed. Once you're there, I'm afraid I have some information that I don't think you're going to like very much."

"Have I ever liked the information that the Order has seen fit to give me?" Snape said conversationally as he moved slowly to the bed beside Hermione's, waving away Sprout's proffered hand.

"Ah, well," Sprout hedged, "Dumbledore has decided to invite Remus and Sirius back to Hogwarts for the remainder of summer."

Snape stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before flicking his eyes to Sprout. "If I was physically exhausted, instead of mentally, I'm sure I'd still find the strength to be upset. However, as I am now, all I'd really like to do is go to sleep."

With that, he turned over, putting an end to the conversation. Sprout smiled warmly at the black-cloaked back that faced her before ducking out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her as she left to go speak with the Headmaster.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Snape might not have been so flippant about Sirius and Remus' imminent arrival had he known just how close they were.

Remus was speaking to an old, grizzled man behind the counter at the Hog's Head, trying to procure a room for himself and the black dog sitting calmly beside him.

"No," Remus said succinctly, enunciating every syllable. "I'll only need it for one night, not one week."

The grumpy-looking old man behind the counter smiled, revealing two rows of yellowed and crooked teeth. Had he been watching Remus' pet, rather than Remus himself, he would have noticed the large black dog at his side recoil, a most unusual action for a dog to perform.

"Ah, you'll be realizing that there's a special for a week's paid stay?"

"I understand that," Remus replied patiently, ignoring the dog's growl. "I would still like one night, please."

The man twisted his scraggly grey hair between his knobby fingers, flashing Remus another gap-toothed grin. Remus barely heard the man's next sentence; he was staring in fascination at the man, wondering how he managed to pronounce so many words with so few teeth. "We don't be allowing pets here, sir."

The dog beside Remus rose, growling again as it began to move forward. Remus reached down quickly, grabbing blindly until his hand closed on the scruff of the dog's neck. "I'm sure we can work something out," Remus said to the terrified barkeep with an encouraging smile.

"Aye, sir," the barkeep stammered. "You'll be wanting the week special, then. Pets included."

Remus sighed, reaching into his pocket with his free hand, marveling at how the man could still finagle money from him while frightened. "Fine."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Remus blew out a breath as he lugged his suitcase up the stairs, made doubly heavy by Sirius' belongings inside as well as Remus'. The black dog walked behind, giving a push on the suitcase whenever Remus allowed it to slip too much.

"Blimey," Remus said wearily, turning to look longingly at the door to their room, still several steps above. "Oh, don't give me that look," he chastened the dog, which was currently staring at him with an air of smugness. "You know we can't have you seen, so it's not as if your offer of help with the luggage was realistic."

When he finally made it to the room, he took out the key the barkeep had given him. "Never even got a name from him," he said thoughtfully to the animal by his side. Without any apparent keyhole, Remus wondered how he was to open the door. Feeling foolish, he waved the key in the air at the door, and was surprised as the key in his palm began to burn and the door swung open.

The dog bounded past him into the room, almost knocking Remus off-balance. "Yes, Sirius," Remus muttered, turning around to collect the suitcase. "Knock me down, that's a good boy-"

No sooner had he closed his hand around the clasp did another male hand come into view, and he turned his head to see Sirius' grinning face. "I couldn't let you suffer more, after you've already dragged the blasted thing this far."

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Remus released his hold on the handle and Sirius hefted it with ease. Remus stayed at the door for a moment when they were both inside, inspecting the door for locks and finding none. Couldn't hurt, he thought to himself, and again waved his key in front of the door, noting with approval how the edges around the door turned a satisfying shade of red before fading to their usual wood once more.

"Right, we're all locked up. Sirius, you really should have waited until-"

"A week special, he says?" Sirius said loudly, flopping backwards onto the bed and linking his hands behind his head. "You should have told him exactly where he could shove his week's special-"

Remus cleared his throat meaningfully.

"No pets, indeed-"

"Sirius!"

"Well, you know, you're just wasting money, money that I'm not entire certain we can stand to part with-"

"Sirius," Remus said, massaging his temples. "I haven't even given you the details on why we're going to Hogwarts. Wouldn't you care to know?"

Sirius sat up from his relaxed position, scooting to the end of the bed and patting the area next to him, indicating to Remus that he should take a seat. "Sorry about that… you just know how I am after spending so much time as Padfoot. It's dead boring, really, not being able to speak to anyone…"

Remus sat next to Sirius, patting his knee. "I know, I know… But I'm afraid I have some very upsetting news, and it's just made me a bit short on temper, that's all."

Sirius immediately sobered. "What's happened?"

"Well," Remus began, jumping as Sirius began to trace indiscriminate patterns on his knee with a finger. "Stop that," he muttered to Sirius, eliciting a grin.

Remus told Sirius everything Dumbledore had told him, which was only that Hermione had been cursed, and Snape had been discovered, though he was uninjured and safe at Hogwarts.

"Hermione cursed by a book?" Sirius mused. "That's irony if I ever heard it."

Remus shook his head, frowning. "I've never heard of the type of curse Albus described to me. It sounds like someone created something completely new, using several powerful existing curses."

"And by someone, you mean Voldemort?"

"No, I'm not certain he's strong enough at this point to do that. Although, of course, there's so many people who he could've had do it for him…"

"The puppet master at work," Sirius said with a grimace. "I don't understand why some enterprising Death Eater hasn't just risen and taken the power from Voldemort now, while he's weak."

"Perhaps they know something we don't. Not every Death Eater is a new Crabbe or Goyle; there are certainly intelligent ones as well."

"I suppose… after all, Snape was one. Useless ass he may be, Snivellus was always a genius."

"Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed. "Don't tell me you still harbor ill feelings for the man, after all that he's done and been through!"

Sirius laughed, though there was clearly no humor in it. "Yeah, I'm sure. He deserved everything he's been through. The man was a Death Eater! He tortured innocent people, and now you and the rest of them condone his actions because he realized he didn't have an icicle's chance in hell of surviving in that group! Always running away, that's Snivellus, looking to be on the winning team no matter what!"

"Oh, Sirius," Remus murmured, standing and moving away to lean against the far wall. "You and I both know that what you say isn't true, and you're not helping anyone or anything by sulking like a child."

"He hates you, you know," Sirius said viciously. "He would kill you if he could."

"I daresay he's not the only one."

"And you still stick up for him?"

"Yes, I do, Sirius. Because I don't need his permission to like him."

Sirius scowled, laying back down and staring at the ceiling. "As if anyone could truly like-"

"Sirius! I know that this conversation isn't going to go anywhere from where we are now, but don't you think it would be wise to spare Hermione a thought or two?"

Sirius looked as if he'd already forgotten.

"Mention Snape and you're gone, is that it?"

"I'm sorry, Remus," Sirius said contritely. "Do they know anything else about Hermione's curse? How it affects her?"

"Not right now," Remus said, shaking his head. "Flitwick and Snape are searching their collections of Charms and Dark Magic, respectively."

"Good thing we have a person there who's so… fascinated, with Dark Magic, isn't it?"

"Isn't it?" Remus said curtly. "We'll be going to Hogwarts tomorrow, as early as we possibly can. In light of that fact, I would suggest getting some sleep now."

"The Shrieking Shack?" Sirius asked worriedly.

Remus smiled inwardly; Sirius seemed cold-hearted at times, but he had no fear of his own for the dilapidated building. It was Remus himself who was reminded of his painful transformations because of it, and Sirius was one of the few who knew that.

"Yes, but I'll be alright. It wouldn't astute of us to simply approach the castle gates, now would it?"

"But… what about the Honeydukes-"

"Sirius!" Remus said sharply. "I will not add breaking and entering to the already considerable list of offenses we've committed. I'll be fine," Remus said in a softer voice, giving Sirius a small smile. "I promise."

Sirius looked at Remus doubtfully, but Remus waved away his concern. "Never mind with that. We're both going to need to get some rest tonight, because I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be taking a toll."

With a grim nod, Sirius began to ready himself for bed.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Is that so?" Albus said, considering Sprout carefully above his spectacles.

"It is. I didn't want to keep him awake any longer, exhausted as he was. But Severus made it clear that time is of the essence."

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said heavily, "that we're all ignoring what is right before our eyes. Miss Granger must not be allowed to become a tool of Voldemort. Her skills and capabilities, if lost to us, must not be gained by him."

Sprout blanched. "Surely you're not suggesting what I think you are-"

"If we can't use her, no one can?"

Sprout swiveled around in her chair to see a furious McGonagall standing in the doorway, while Dumbledore looked up calmly.

"How?" McGonagall said angrily, using a tone Sprout had never heard her use before. "How could you be so callous as to suggest killing one of our own?"

"Minerva, she won't be one of our much longer," Dumbledore said. Sprout sat quietly, watching the Dumbledore argue with his right hand woman in astonishment. The two had few real disagreements, and now it seemed that everything was falling apart before Sprout's eyes.

"Albus, doing this will put us at the same despicably selfish level that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operates on!"

"If it is the only way to end this curse upon Hermione, then we will do what we must."

McGonagall gestured helplessly, taking a seat beside the now quite forgotten Sprout.

"I find," Dumbledore said gently, "that motive determines a great deal of right and wrong. We hurt Hermione under extreme duress, with the goal of saving her and not harming her."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," McGonagall said dully. Seeing Sprout's confused look, she continued. "It's and old quote by a Muggle English writer."

"Actually," Snape said as he walked into the room, "that's incorrect. It's actually a sixteenth century proverb."

Snape raised an eyebrow when he received a glare from both McGonagall and Sprout. "I find it bothersome when people attribute quotes erroneously."

"And I find it bothersome when the live of a member of the Order is dismissed as insignificant!"

"We will not resort to this measure unless we are left with no other option. However," Dumbledore continued at the hopeful look in Minerva's eyes, "you must accept that this could well be a path that we will take, albeit reluctantly."

"What measure encounters such strong objection?" Snape asked.

"That of ending Miss Granger's life in order to avoid other, less desirable, events."

There was a flash of surprise across Snape's face. "The curse should be broken on the event n her death," Snape said thoughtfully. "This is a viable option."

"Are you crazy?" McGonagall all but screeched. "It is not-"

"Oh, hush, Minerva," Sprout said crossly, causing everyone else to look at her in surprise. "No one here wants to see Hermione die either, but we must be realistic. Don't yell at Severus for saying what you're unwilling to hear. What do you think Hermione would say if she were with us now?"

McGonagall shook her head. "I know you're right, I do. Pardon me, I need to get some air," she said abruptly, getting up and leaving quickly.

Dumbledore watched her go sadly, motioning to Sprout to follow. "Pomona, if you would-"

"Nothing of it, Headmaster," Sprout said, following McGonagall out of the room.

"It would seem you have a new ally, Severus. Now," Dumbledore said intently, "tell me what you have in mind."

"What would give you the idea that I have anything in mind?"

Dumbledore glowered at Snape. "You don't think I know you well enough by now to know that you would never have said that unless you had something up your sleeve? If so, then you are severely mistaken, my boy."

Snape had to fight the urge to smirk at the irate Headmaster. "The easiest way to end this curse would be to end Miss Granger's life. But she doesn't have to stay that way."

Dumbledore sat back, looking disappointed. "There is no magic that can bring someone back from the dead, Severus. You know that."

"Whatever gave you the idea I was planning on using magic?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

_Alright, you guys, I owe all of you an apology. I've been trying all week to find a beta-reader, because even though I am one myself, I can't catch everything. I know how horrible it is to read a fic rife with spelling and grammar errors, and I'd really hoped to prevent all that. Unfortunately, my only options at this point seem to be to continue as I've been going with the weekly updates and not have a beta, or get a beta and wait up to a month between posts. I suppose I'll leave the choice up to you; what do you guys think?_

_Either way, expect fic updates on my Livejournal, the link to which is in the user profile. I'll be including my progress on SMI, as well as my other fics. Bleed Like Me progress will also be posted there. Finally, any review questions that I don't plan on answering through the ongoing fic can be found there as well._

_Review if you are of a mind to do so._


	4. Fourth

Sprout approached Minerva McGonagall much as Hagrid would a dangerous creature-- being sure to make noise as she carefully walked up and sat beside her on the bench. McGonagall had fled to a nearby alcove and was currently sitting completely still while staring intently at the wall as though there was something interesting churning within the granite stones.

"Minerva," Sprout said gently, "I know there's nothing really… I mean, no one expects you to understand this, especially considering how proud you were of Hermione-"

At this, McGonagall's eyes began to tear up, and Sprout nodded in understanding. "It's alright-"

"That is not the problem!" McGonagall said sharply, startling Sprout.

Sprout regarded her contemplatively. Minerva didn't often become this upset unless she had an underlying reason for it.

"What is the problem, then?"

"I," McGonagall gestured helplessly, "I just…"

Sprout smiled encouragingly, but McGonagall only shook her head, standing. "I'm sorry Pomona, and really, thank you for your concern. But I don't want to talk about it now."

"Well, wait, Minerva-"

Sprout's words did not seem to reach Minerva, who was already walking hurriedly in the other direction. Sprout watched her leave, feeling very much afraid the school's administration was falling apart.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

To say that Dumbledore was surprised would have been an understatement of the greatest degree. He knew Snape would do everything in his power to help Hermione, due mostly to the fact that it was likely this spell had been intended for Snape himself. However, if Snape was suggesting Muggle means to counter the curse… Not only would doing so require outside assistance, but it would also require a great expenditure of energy on Snape's part. They would have to find ways around the fact that few electronic devices worked within Hogwart's boundaries, and there was no guarantee whatever process Snape had in mind would be effective in both removing the curse and keeping Hermione alive.

"Albus, I understand that you must be apprehensive about exposing Miss Granger to the effects-"

Dumbledore blinked, his reverie broken by Snape's terse words. "Severus, you know I trust you implicitly in these matters. Certainly, though, you also know how unlikely this is to work?"

Snape walked over to the seat in front of the Headmaster's desk and took a seat. "It is a rather large gamble," he said slowly, "but it is the only solution that we could be assured would be untraceable. The Dark Lord would hardly bother to worry about Muggle remedies, not when he believes Muggles so incompetent."

"Untraceable? My dear boy, you can't possibly be implying that I'm putting anything above the value of Hermione's life?"

"No, I'm not implying it," Snape said smugly, parroting the Headmaster's earlier words. "I am, quite candidly, assuring you that that is, in fact, the case."

Dumbledore frowned, but Snape continued before he could say anything. "As Minerva is not here, there is no need for you to mince words with me. The Order comes first, as we're all aware."

"You needn't make me sound so detached, Severus. The Order may come first, but believe me when I say the loss of _any _of our small number would be a tragedy."

Snape said nothing for a long moment, looking away from Dumbledore only to find himself face to beak with Fawkes.

"Fawkes," Snape said with some surprise. "I thought he was sleeping," he addressed Dumbledore while shifting backwards, seemingly repelled.

"He was, and is no longer. In fact, his slumber's end seemed to coincide almost exactly with the advent of Hermione's curse."

Fawkes had moved only slightly throughout Dumbledore's speech, but he now fluttered onto the arm of the chair in which Snape was sitting. Snape watched him carefully, as far to the other side of the seat as he could be without being too noticeable. However, Dumbledore saw his reluctance to get close to the bird.

"Suddenly afraid, Severus?"

Snape grimaced. "Of course not. The bird has saved my life more times than I can count. I just…" Here he trailed off, unwilling to say aloud that he felt the bird was too good for him. He felt an overwhelming urge to stroke the glittering scarlet feathers, but had the irrational notion that he would somehow dirty the phoenix's purity.

Fawkes, however, seemed to be having none of this. Butting his head against Snape's arm, he forced Snape to raise his hand, which he did, gingerly resting it on the phoenix's neck.

It was at this moment a loud crackling was heard in Dumbledore's fireplace and the face of Remus Lupin appeared.

"Albus, are you there?"

Snape froze, knowing he would not be noticed in his current position. Albus shot him a glance before moving in front of the fire, blocking the rest of the room from view.

"Remus, my boy, are you nearby?"

"Indeed; I'm at the Hog's Head now, and I'll be arriving at Hogwarts in the morning."

"And Sirius is with you, I presume?"

Behind Dumbledore, Snape curled his lip in disgust.

"Yes, he's abed now… Exhausted, I'm certain—"

While Remus related the particulars of his and Black's journey to Dumbledore, Snape stroked Fawkes' feathers absentmindedly. So he was to deal with Lupin and Black as well as try to figure out the solution for Hermione's problem? Lupin, he could tolerate… Providing it was nowhere near a full moon and he was fully dosed with Wolfsbane. Black, on the other hand…

_Snape detested Black. He had since their first year at Hogwarts, when Black had gone to Gryffindor with no thought as to family tradition or propriety. After all, they'd been childhood friends, and had agreed that they would eventually attend Hogwarts together, becoming the top students of whichever House into which they were sorted. _

_Ravenclaw or Slytherin. That had been the arrangement; Black would see to it that he ended up in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and Snape would do likewise. Surely the Sorting Hat would understand the need for the two to stay close, and both children had known they were no Hufflepuffs. Avoid Gryffindor at all costs, Black had urged Snape, because everyone knew what foolish gits came from that House. And Snape, knowing little other social niceties than what he learned from his cousin Sirius, had nodded and agreed to do so._

_But then-- They'd been separated while boarding the Hogwart's Express, and when Snape had finally stumbled across Black, he was sitting with a three other boys Snape had never met._

"_Sev!" Black had exclaimed. "This is James Potter," the boy he motioned toward waved, "and this is Remus, and over there is Peter-"_

"_Nice to meet you," Snape had muttered. "Sirius, we've got to get going, Bellatrix wanted-"_

"_Oh, sod her," Black said with a wave of his hand. "I don't really care what she wants-"_

"_But Sirius-"_

"_Severus!" Black had exclaimed, frowning at Snape. "Why don't you just go talk to her yourself if it's so important?"_

_Snape had quickly backed out of the compartment, startled by Black's sudden mood swing. He could still remember the boys inside laughing over "the little shrimp" who clung to Black. He'd stood waiting outside the door and balled his hands into fists, waiting for Black to defend him, or to come after him…_

_But it had never happened. Black had sat and laughed with the rest of them, adding that he followed him everywhere, and it was really nothing new. Snape just sat in the corridor, confused at Black's behaviour and oblivious to Remus' attempts to calm the boys inside the room._

_Did I annoy Sirius? -Snape had wondered at the time. Maybe he was following him too closely. With that thought, he bolted down the corridor, finding an empty compartment in which he could spend the rest of the ride alone._

Snape frowned as he snapped back to the present and realized Dumbledore was still speaking with Lupin. Fawkes nudged his hand, as it had stilled with his thoughts, and he resumed petting the bird and thinking…

_Snape had ridden the train alone, entered Hogwarts alone, stood off to the side by himself as he nervously waited to be Sorted. Perhaps Sirius was just in a bad mood… Yes, yes, that was it, and once Sirius was Sorted and in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, Snape would join him and try to find out what was wrong. Snape hadn't given much thought to the three new friends Sirius had made—He'd overheard Bellatrix tell Lucius that Potters were always Sorted into Gryffindor, and Sirius had already said he would never end up there, no matter what-_

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_

_The surprise on Snape's face must have been evident as Black cheerfully took the Hat off his head and replaced it on the stool, walking over to the Gryffindor table and sitting there with a smug smile. Snape had motioned to himself and then Gryffindor table, feeling even more confused as Sirius shook his head vehemently._

_As Snape watched, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Potter were all subsequently Sorted into Gryffindor, and Black greeted each with cheers. The whole ordeal was surreal, and Snape had walked mechanically to the Sorting Hat when his name was called, becoming more and more angry that his cousin, his best friend, had betrayed him. _

'_Oh dear, I sense more recent hate than anything in here…'_

_Snape had tried not to think of anything, but he kept seeing Sirius and his new friends laughing at Gryffindor table and he felt himself beginning to loathe him. He'd promised, then left him here alone._

_Please, Snape had thought in alarm, Slytherin, put me in Slytherin, it's the only place I know anyone—_

'_Slytherin? But you would do so well in Ravenclaw… No? Oh, very well, if you insist…'_

"_SLYTHERIN!"_

_From there Snape had only vague memories; he'd waved uncertainly at Sirius, who'd ignored him, and as he sat he heard Bellatrix muttering about the "blood traitor" in the family…_

"Severus!"

Snape looked up calmly, trying not to let show how distracted he'd been. "Finished with your meeting?"

Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Yes, as I've said twice now. Remus and Sirius will be joining us in the morning, at which point they will assist you with—Well, what you're about to explain to me right now."

Snape straightened in his seat, Fawkes moving from the arm of the chair to his usual perch. "I have only a minute understanding of the process myself, but Muggles have found a way to restart a heart that has stopped through the application of electric shocks."

"No type of electric device-"

"Yes, yes, I'm aware. What I am referring to is the idea that once the heart is restarted, the body can be fully functional again, all intellect and memories intact."

Dumbledore stared at a point in the distance as he spoke. "This process is not guaranteed to work, and has a very low success rate."

At this, Snape had to take a moment to marvel inwardly at the knowledge Dumbledore had collected throughout his life. So then, the idea had occurred to the headmaster as well.

"But, Albus, we surely must have ways to keep the heart beating, instead of restarting it?" Dumbledore looked at Snape oddly as he continued his disjointed speech. "My point is, the body can be dead, and through continued blood circulation and proper precautions, it can be brought back to a healthy state once more."

"Severus, my boy," Dumbledore said slowly, "you are getting ahead of yourself. Hermione is alive and well in body, and at this point we are not trying to keep her alive-"

"Oh, I know," Snape said with a wolfish grin. "We're trying to kill her."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Hospital Wing was eerily quiet. Madam Pomfrey had not anticipated anyone filling its beds during the summer, and now it was Hermione, who had been here in her second year for so long...

Pomfrey walked to stand beside Hermione, whose eyes were still open and unfocused. Hesitating a moment, Pomfrey waved her hand in front of Hermione's face, watching her intently. She sighed when she got no response.

"Oh, child, I hope that we can fix this," she whispered, sitting on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"Poppy!"

Pomfrey jumped, turning to see Snape striding across the room towards her. "Severus? Whatever are-"

"No time," he said, brushing her off and taking the seat on Hermione's bed she'd just been occupying. "Hello again, Miss Granger," he muttered, taking Hermione's face between his hands and preparing to use Legilimency once again.

"Wait, Severus, I really must protest-" Pomfrey started.

"If you must, then she will be lost to you," Snape said irately, not removing his gaze from Hermione's eyes. "Now, think long and hard before you disturb me again."

Pomfrey was only half-listening to Snape; as he'd sat before Hermione, she'd noticed Hermione's mouth curve into a half-smile and her eyes focus on his, the first movements Pomfrey had observed in her patient for hours.

"By all means, Severus," Poppy mumbled with a smile, sitting on a nearby bed to observe.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Oh, where are you?" Snape murmured, wading through Hermione's mind much as he had earlier. Now, however, most of the dialogue in her memories was garbled, and every single thought contained traces of blue fog.

"Miss Granger!" Snape called, wondering why it was necessary to shout to find someone in their own mind. "Miss Granger!"

His statements only brought forth scrambled memories of himself, sneering at one of Hermione's potions, taking points from her for helping Longbottom, assigning Potter yet another detention—

"Hermione!"

Ah, finally. An image of Hermione, similar to the one he saw earlier, drifted forward. "Ye-es?"

Snape frowned. "Are you quite lucid, Miss Granger?"

The Hermione before him raised an eyebrow, the gesture disturbingly similar to his own. "'Course I am."

"Is that so?" Snape asked, watching her carefully.

Hermione scowled. "D'you honestly believe that's something I wouldn't notice? If I'm worried I've gone mental," Hermione said with a hiccough, "then it's most probable I haven't."

"You seem… intoxicated, Miss Granger."

"Oh, I do?" Hermione said snidely. "And where, exactly, would I get the means to end up that way? Don't exactly have all sorts of liquor around here."

"I suppose not. But, I do have a purpose in coming here, one that needs to be fulfilled immediately," Snape said, his eyes following Hermione as she swayed in place.

"Well, when're you planning on telling me what it is? We aren't all psychic, you know."

"Miss Granger, tell me all the ways you know how to kill a person."

Hermione blinked at him for a moment, looking at him strangely. "No frills?"

"Just the basics, if you please."

Another long moment passed, and then Hermione sighed as though this question was not unusual in the slightest. "Right. Well, there's always guns-"

"Guns?"

"Muggle weapon," Hermione said, extending her forefinger at Snape with the thumb aimed toward the ceiling and her remaining fingers in a fist. "Propels a small projectile called a bullet with great force-"

As she spoke, an image of a metallic device began to flicker between them, and then the sound of a loud bang emitting from it caused Snape to flinch.

"Messy?"

"Oh, very much so."

"No, no, that won't do. I'm looking for one that will cause the least amount of damage to the body possible."

"Least damage?" Hermione said confusedly. "Then why in the bloody hell are you trying to kill it?"

"Miss Granger, don't worry about that!"

Snape glanced around quickly; the background noise was rising, and soon he would be ejected from her mind again-- But this time, there would be no returning.

"Wait, you're in my mind, why do I have to say what I'm thinking out loud-"

"Quickly, think!"

Hermione was taken aback at the uncharacteristic display of impatience, and she immediately began to list every way to kill a human she could remember, corresponding pictures flashing through the air.

"There's suffocation, but that poses the risk of the lungs collapsing… Electricity! Oh, no, that causes nerve damage-"

"We can't get electricity at Hogwarts."

"You're trying to kill someone at Hogwarts!"

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione swallowed as she saw Snape begin to break out in a sweat, though he wasn't doing any type of physical exertion--

"Poison!"

"Any poisons would remain in the body."

"Flame, nah…"

"But the opposite would be rather effective," Snape mused, looking away from the house engulfed in fire that had appeared before him. "What effects would extreme cold would have on the body, Miss Granger?"

"Um, hypothermia, probably? Unless you could find some way to keep the blood circulating long enough to warm it up again…"

"Anything else that might happen?"

"Well, when the body temperature drops to the cardiac arrest point, the heart would cease to-"

"Perfect!" Snape said softly, looking up at Hermione. "That's all, Miss Granger."

"Well," Hermione said angrily, "shouldn't you at least thank me?"

"You want my thanks for your help to save your own life?"

Hermione glowered at Snape for a moment. He could almost pinpoint the exact moment she realized what he intended to do.

"You're trying to kill me!"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Madam Pomfrey watched the interaction between Snape and Hermione with fascination. At regular intervals, Hermione would smile or laugh aloud, and Snape would scowl. All the while, they never broke their intense eye contact, Snape still holding her head tightly between his palms.

Suddenly, Hermione's serene expression turned to one of horror, and Snape winced before dropping her head gruffly.

"Any luck?" Madam Pomfrey asked Snape, who had gotten up from the bed only to stagger to the one beside it.

"Luck? Certainly not."

Pomfrey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Were you successful in-- Well, whatever you attempted to do?"

"I was," Snape said shortly. "We'll have to kill her tomorrow, though; the whole exercise has left me rather exhausted."

"What!"

Before he passed out completely, he vaguely wondered if every woman he saw was going to yell at him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Daylight at Hogwarts dawned late. By the time all occupants had awakened, the sky had barely lightened in color, though it was near to noon.

It was at this point that Remus and Sirius were limping across the grounds toward Hogwarts.

"You're daft, d'you know that?" Sirius grumbled, supporting Remus as they trudged along. "You could've just waited until I'd gotten the Whomping Willow settled, but did you do that? No. 'I'll run for it, Sirius', he says. Well, yeah, see how well that worked?"

"Oh, do shut up."

"'Shut up,' he says-"

"Who are you talking to that you keep referring to me in the third person?" Remus asked amusedly.

Sirius scowled at Remus, taking stock of the bruises that were already beginning to fade on his arm. "Lucky you heal so quickly, what with the amount of scrapes you get into-"

"That you get me into, you mean? And I suppose the quick healing is one of the only positive things about-"

Seeing Remus' face beginning to darken as he spoke, Sirius waved his free hand dismissively. "Never mind that. Now, what exactly has Dumbledore decided to do about Hermione?"

Remus looked up at the castle. He could see the huge doors marking the entrance beginning to open, and instead of answering Sirius, he just nodded toward the doors. "You'll find out soon enough."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Snape rarely slept late. He would wake up automatically after a sparse six hours of sleep, when he could even get that. Even now, knowing that he would not be attending any further encounters with the Dark Lord, he still had trouble sleeping: his nights plagued with the nightmares that had haunted him for years.

And yet here he was-- still groggy and disoriented several hours after the sun rose. He didn't sit up from his position lying on his back, groaning as he tried to turn his head and a sharp pain jolted through his neck. Must have slept on it wrong, he thought wryly.

Realistically, one would believe that it would be nothing extraordinary for Snape to wake up with his whole body a mass of pain. But what use is a Potions Master who is in too much pain to efficiently work? The Dark Lord had subjected Snape to the Cruciatus curse a mere handful of times, though he was beginning to dole it out to Snape and other Death Eaters more regularly. There were other, far more effective ways to induce pain than a simple Unforgivable, Snape thought with a grimace.

Before his mind could stray to these thoughts, he sat up abruptly, wincing as the room spun and then settled into its normal inert state. He cast an eye about the room, noticing his cloak was not in its usual post by the door, but rather thrown across a chair next to the bed. Ah, yes. Right where he'd left it after dragging himself down to his quarters sometime last night. Pomfrey's orders be damned; he was not spending a single night in the Infirmary when he didn't have to. It was unfortunate she'd seen him in such a state as he was yesterday, but Snape had stayed in that horrible room out of necessity too many times already.

He unconsciously rubbed his left arm, wondering idly why his Mark hadn't bothered him since yesterday, just when he was about to leave for the Library—

Snape jerked his head down to stare at his forearm, blinking furiously in the dim light of his room. It was an illusion, a trick… He was still asleep, dreaming of a time that could never exist—

Standing quickly, he strode over to his windows and threw open the curtains that obscured them. He squinted through the bright light that flooded his room, using his fingers to feel for the familiar ridges that had tormented him so much in recent weeks. His arm, however, remained exactly as it was when he first awoke: scarred, moderately hairy, and blissfully unmarked.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sprout yawned as she toddled up the stairs to the Infirmary. Understandably, her sleep the previous night had not been restful. She couldn't help but avert her eyes from the form of Hermione, as she crossed the room to Pomfrey's office, the designated meeting place. Hermione didn't seem to be speaking anymore, but her eyes were wide open and as unfocused as yesterday, her fists clenching and unclenching at side.

"Poor dear," Sprout muttered, opening the door to the office.

"Pomona!"

Sprout looked up in surprise as Remus smiled warmly at her. "Remus, hello!" She flicked her gaze at the other occupants of the room before continuing. "I wish I could say we've chanced on each other under better circumstances."

"No chance involved, unfortunately," Sirius spoke from his corner, causing Sprout to whirl around to face him. "Dumbledore let us know there was a problem, and we hastened ourselves right down."

"If you don't mind me asking," Sprout said slowly, raising her eyebrow, "what exactly did you have in mind to, ah, assuage, or even eliminate, said problem?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot," Sirius replied bluntly.

"I see." Sprout glanced at Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and Flitwick, the only others present. "Where are Minerva and Severus?"

"I saw Minerva earlier this morning," Flitwick piped up. "Now, Severus is, most likely, brooding somewhere or other-"

"Likely not," Snape said calmly as he walked through the door, shutting it a bit more loudly than necessary behind him and causing Flitwick to jump.

"Now, I didn't mean anything by-"

"You never do. Pomona," Severus questioned, effectively ignoring Flitwick, "where is Minerva?"

"Filius just saw her," Sprout replied, her eyes twinkling in mirth. "Whether it was coming or going, he didn't say."

"Speak of me as if I'm not here, honestly-"

Remus' eyes had been flitting from speaker to speaker as they spoke, but it was Sirius who spoke first.

"Now, now, is all this arguing really necessary?"

Remus began to breathe out slowly, thinking the situation remedied… And then he released his breath a sigh as Sirius continued in his usual brusque manner.

"After all, it's hardly uncommon for Snivellus to be his usual whiny self, is it? I can see what Filius means-"

"Enough, Sirius!" Remus cried weakly. "Must you always cause chaos whenever Severus is involved?"

"Oh, Severus, is it?" Sirius said darkly. "Sweet Sevvie, dear Sevvie-"

"Black, should you ever address me in that manner again, you will find out just how 'sweet' I can be," Snape replied smoothly. "I don't know which disgusts me more, your painfully evident stupidity or the implication I would ever be familiar with," Snape paused here, curling his lip in distaste, "a _werewolf_."

"This has gone on long enough," Dumbledore said, casting disappointed looks on Snape and Sirius, who were still glaring at one another. "If Minerva does not want to attend, we'll have to continue without her."

"Oh!" Pomfrey said, startled. "We couldn't! I'll just go now and-"

"No need, Poppy," McGonagall said tiredly as she entered the room. She sat down, staring stonily at a space directly above Dumbledore's head. "My apologies for my tardiness," she said stiffly.

Sprout glanced worriedly at her, but Dumbledore just nodded and faced the room.

"Severus has uncovered a possible remedy for Hermione's condition. We will all," he said, staring pointedly at Sirius, "do our best to help him in whatever way he deems useful. Now, as I have little grasp on the specifics myself, I will allow him to explain."

"The only way to break this curse that we know of know would involve Miss Granger relinquishing her hold on life. Therefore, in order to ascertain no information she has been privy to is available to," he paused here, "whomever placed this curse, we must kill her."

"What?" McGonagall cried as Sirius jumped to his feet. "No!"

"Sirius," Remus said soothingly. "I'm sure if that was all that was involved, Severus would not have needed to explain. Let's hear the rest, yeah?"

"She needn't stay dead, however," Snape continued, slanting a look at an impassive Dumbledore. "So long as the body remains in a potentially functioning condition, Muggles have found ways of restoring life."

"Muggle devices-"

"I'm aware," Snape said sharply. "We do, however, have spells that can be tweaked to provide the same effects; namely, the _Elahit Cruor _to ensure continued blood flow, and we can make adjustments to the Electroshock Charm."

Sprout spoke tentatively. "It sounds doable, if risky. But how would we kill her?" Beside her, McGonagall winced.

"We'll freeze her," Snape said simply. "If done quickly enough, it would cause little damage to the body with the blood circulation spell firmly in place. However, when the body gets to a certain temperature, it enters cardiac arrest and the heart ceases to beat."

"Effectively killing Hermione and, hopefully, ending the curse as well," Remus mused.

"There is more to it. From the point where Miss Granger, ah, dies, we will have a limited amount of time to restore her without risking brain damage or worse."

"How limited is our time?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

Snape cleared his throat. "Sixty seconds, give or take."

"Shouldn't be a problem. Our warming charms work quick enough to accomplish that easily," Flitwick said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Actually," said Pomfrey slowly, "if we raise her body temperature too quickly, the _Elahit Cruor_ could fail. She'd expire permanently, almost immediately, were that the case."

"I have considered this already," Snape said haughtily. "Administering the warming charm over the course of fifty-four seconds in a pattern I have developed will ensure this does not happen."

Remus frowned. "Doesn't leave much room for error, does it? And who would do it?"

"Wait a damn minute!" Sirius yelled frantically, waving his arms. "Just wait! We're going to freeze Hermione to death, apply charms that we'll have to tinker with experimentally -- and illegally, I might add -- and then perform a complex warming charm with a five second margin of error or else Hermione dies?"

"No, you imbecile," Snape said with a sigh, rubbing his temple and grimacing. "We'll have a six second margin of error."

"Oh," Sirius said sarcastically. "That's alright, then. You're all bloody daft!"

The members of the room turned as one to look at Sirius for a moment, then returned to the conversation once more as if nothing had been said.

"Minerva, what do you think of this?" Sprout asked.

"Well, it is, without question, the most outrageous idea I've ever heard. However," she stated at Sprout's wry glance, "As I can think of no better plan myself, I therefore will not criticize. But as Remus asked earlier, who will cast the charm? Albus?"

"Oh," Dumbledore said, affecting sudden weariness and slouching, "I'm much too old to learn an entire pattern of spells now."

"Bullo-"

"Severus," Pomfrey said loudly, interrupting Sirius's exclamation, "perhaps you should do it. You have the most control of any of us here other than Albus, and you'll need to be present for the procedure anyway."

Snape inclined his head, and Dumbledore straightened in his seat suddenly, seemingly spry once more. "We are working under a timeframe. Severus has indicated to me that the curse's effects progress with time, and very soon Hermione will be overwhelmed."

"How long?" McGonagall asked, involuntarily glancing at the door beyond which Hermione lay.

"We'll have to begin the process by tonight at the latest. The risk becomes too great if we wait any longer."

"Tonight?" Pomfrey said, startled. "No, no, it's too soon, we won't be able to modify the spells-"

"Wait any longer," Snape said mildly, "and it's only the first half of the plan that you'll need to worry about."

"Severus!" McGonagall gasped.

Remus shook his head. "He's right. We all know how difficult this will be, and like Pomona said, it may be risky, but it can be done. Severus," he said, turning to Snape, "what do you want us to do?"

As Remus spoke, Sirius was pacing near the door. He looked out the small window and yelped in surprise before throwing open the door. "Quick, everyone, it's Hermione!"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Jess: _:snerk: Am I evil? Oh yes, I am. After you've all waited so patiently for this chapter, too… I'm almost sorry for the ending, honestly. My mind's telling me no, but my Sevvie is telling me ye-es… And I completely forgot to let you all in on the secret that only NotRachem caught: the excerpt in the second chapter is from Bleed Like Me, another fic on this account. Shameless self-promotion, I know, but I didn't want my dear Snape to insult anyone else's work, and I was too lazy to write more fiction within fanfiction._

_In any case, Catherine, thank you very much for your thoughts. You helped me get the plot evened out nicely, and solved a few of my problems for me, haha. And Phae and Kate, I would have been lost without you guys, honestly. Your feedback helped me more than I'll ever be able to say… Oh, and the reviewers who don't want to kill me after such a long wait for the next chapter? Thank you all so much!  
_


End file.
